“Morning, Mr. Bush,” Deek greeted.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Bush responded, now smiling the smile he no longer needed to repress. “And a glorious morning it is.”
“I’d say so,” Deek said. “But that sure was a hell of a goose drowner we had last night.”
“Ah, yes. But look at the results. Have you ever seen a sky so bright, a day so . . . stimulating?”
“No.” Deek looked at his brothers. “I guess not, leastwise in December . . . not in Louisiana. Right, boys?”
The boys nodded agreement.
“Have you gentlemen found anything suitable?”
“How’s that?” Deek asked.
“That spread you were looking for. Any prospects?”
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact. There just might be one or two.”
“Going out again today? Certainly is a beautiful day to go out looking.”
“Yeah, well, as a matter of fact,” Deek repeated the phrase, “no, we’re not.”
“Oh.”
“You see, Mr. Bush, Bart here’s feeling poorly.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, it’s his tooth. One of his back molars flared up on him. Right, Bart?”
“Uh, right.”
“Well,” Bush said, “that’s nothing to fool around with. Ought to go see Tony.”
“Tony the barber?” Deek asked.
“Yes. Besides barbering and a couple of other professions, Tony can pull a tooth, or teeth, if needs be.”
“Yeah,” Deek said. “Maybe we’ll do that, uh, Bart?”
“Yeah, maybe. Unless it gets to feelin’ better.”
“Hope it does. Well, gentlemen,” Bush continued to smile, “good day.” He proceeded through the mud toward the bank.
“What’s got into him?” Tom said as Bush moved out of earshot.
“Damned if I know,” Deek replied. “Bart, you want to go see Tony?” he joshed, and puffed on his pipe.
“Hell, no!” Bart was indignant. “What’s a matter with you, Deek? You know there’s nothing wrong with my tooths.”
“Then, would you rather go looking for a spread?”
“Hell, no. I’d rather go in there.” Bart pointed at the Appaloosa.
“Well, let’s go.”
“I never seen a banker so happy,” Bart noted as they walked toward the saloon.
“Yeah, well.” Deek puffed and smiled even more. “We’ll do something about that.”
Chapter 28
The morning of Christmas Eve day Shad Parker had watched as the three children made their way up the mud-slick hillside after they gobbled their food in silence, following his telling them to “eat your breakfast and get out.”
Peg had volunteered to wash the dishes, but their host said that wouldn’t be necessary. She had placed a plate of scrambled eggs and several thick slices of bacon on the table for him, being careful not to disturb the letter, the tin box, or the gun. While they were there, Shad Parker did not touch the food.
It wasn’t easy but he had managed to get to his feet as they ate. The children felt it advisable not to try to help him. He carefully folded the shawl and held it with both hands, leaning against the wall, until they finished eating. They finished as quickly as they could. It was then that Peg had mentioned washing the dishes.
They walked out as far away from him as possible while he braced his back against the wall and cradled the shawl.
“Hope you feel better, mister,” Peg said as she walked by.
Shad Parker did not reply.
He waited just a couple of minutes then went to the open door and watched them as the older boy and the girl helped the youngest make the slippery ascent.
The older boy had seen to the needs of the animals as well as the chickens and, considering the deluge, the place was not in bad shape at all, except for the burned and shattered pieces of what used to be a wheelbarrow.
Shad Parker noticed something else that disturbed him, but for the time being he had to go inside and take it easy.
“What a mess!” Peg said from the threshold of the cave. The mud had even covered the area that they had used to build their fire.
“Mud must be a foot thick,” Austin added.
“Well, what do you think, Austin? Should we try to clean it up, or go someplace else?”
“I’ll go out and look after a while, but we’d better do what we can first, just in case we got to stay.”
An hour later Austin and Peg were still on either end of a board that Austin had procured, using it as a blade to skim the mud off the floor of the cave.
Davy stood watching as the wave of mud came closer to him.
“Why are grown-ups always so mad?” he asked.
“Davy,” Austin said, ignoring the question, “you’re just getting in the way. Move over.”
Davy moved.
“Just about everybody I can remember was always mad.”
“That’s not true.” Peg looked up at him from the mud.
“Sure it is, like ol’ Miss Stench. She was always mad, wasn’t she?”
“Can’t argue about that.” Austin smiled. “But some others weren’t, like that buffalo man—even that man on the mule. They weren’t mad. They just got things on their mind. Things beside us.”
“That man down there,” Davy pointed below. “He’s mad at us . . .”
“He’s mad at everything,” Austin said.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, Davy . . . and I don’t intend to ask him.” Austin went back to work.
“Was our daddy and mommy always mad?”
“No, they weren’t,” Peg said. “They used to . . . laugh a lot. Didn’t they, Austin?”
Austin just nodded.
“I wish I could remember them. I can’t even hardly remember what they looked like.”
“Well,” Peg smiled, “you were pretty young.”
“Are we ever gonna get another . . . a mom and . . .”
“Davy,” Austin became exasperated, “quit asking so many questions. We’re trying to work. Why don’t you get outta here for a while? You’re just in the way. Go on outside and play.”
“By myself?”
“Yes, by yourself. Go on, but don’t stray too far.”
“All right.” Davy shrugged and left.
Austin and Peg continued to work in silence for a few minutes.
“Austin?”
“What?”
“Why do you think he’s so mad?”
“Huh?”
“That man.”
Austin knew which man she was talking about.
“I haven’t got any notion.”
“Did you see the way he jumped when I took hold of that piece of paper?”
“Sure, I did.”
“It was a letter. I could tell that much. And there were some other letters in that box . . . and the way he held on to that shawl . . . There’s something sad about him . . . don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t. I don’t think anything about him.”
“Course you do. Austin . . . you think we saved his life? I mean, you think he woulda died out there last night?”
“Probably not. Too mean to die.”
“He looked like he was drowning in that water when you got to him.”
“I don’t know. All I know is we’re never gonna get this mud outta here if you keep on yapping.”
* * *
Davy’s brown eyes were wide open in astonishment. He leaned his head forward a little more, looking at a rabbit in the grass.
The rabbit looked right back at Davy. They both were frozen still for the moment. Then the rabbit scampered into a thicket. Davy didn’t move his body but he turned his head back toward the cave.
“Austin! Peggy! Hey, Austin, come out here. Quick! Hurry up!”
Inside the cave they heard their brother’s voice, dropped the board in the mud, and ran.
They stopped just outside of the entrance to determine from whi
ch direction Davy had called.
“Austin! Peggy!”
His voice came from their left and they both moved quickly.
“Come here, quick!”
The voice was closer as they ran.
“What is it?” Austin repeated as he caught sight of his brother.
“Come here! Come here!” Davy stood at the base of a rocky ledge and pointed toward the thicket just a few feet away. “There’s a rabbit in there! Maybe we can catch him!”
At first Austin and Peg were both relieved that Davy was not hurt or in trouble. But the next instant Austin grabbed hold of his sister and stood aghast.
“Davy!” Austin exclaimed in a hard, frightened whisper.
“What’s wrong?” Davy turned.
“Davy! Davy!” Austin implored. “Don’t move!” The cougar hunched above, on the rim of the ledge, poised within leaping distance of the little boy, who still did not see the open-jawed animal. But both Austin and Peg saw it, and stood terrified.
The cougar snarled and plunged out and downward toward the boy.
A rifle shot exploded.
The cougar twisted in midair, toppled, and dropped in a dead heap at the little boy’s feet.
Together, Austin and Peg ran to their brother, who, crying and trembling, dropped to his knees.
Shad Parker with his Winchester took a couple of steps forward, stopped, then walked closer.
Peg cradled her brother in both arms and did her best to comfort him.
“It’s all right, Davy. You’re all right. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Go ahead and cry, Davy, but it’s all right . . .”
Austin looked over to the man with the rifle who stood looking down at the dead animal. The shot had entered from beneath the cougar’s jaw and hit the brain.
“Was that . . . ?” Austin pointed at the cougar. “Was that... ?”
“Mate to the other one.” Shad Parker nodded. “Caught a glimpse of her this morning.”
The tip of his boot lifted the forepaw of the limp cat and let it drop. She was somewhat smaller than the mate Shad Parker had shot and skinned, about six feet long, tooth to tailbone, with a lighter, grayer color, but not less deadly and now no less dead.
“Gee, mister . . . I, well . . .”
“Never mind,” Shad Parker said, still looking down at the cat.
The little boy turned from his sister and gazed across at the beast that had leapt toward him. He went from sobbing to a full burst of tears all over again.
Shad Parker looked from the little boy and girl to the older brother. He was through contemplating. He took hold of the older boy’s arm.
“All right, you’ve had enough and so have I.”
“What do you mean, mister?” The man’s grip was tight on Austin’s wrist.
“I mean, you’re coming with me.”
“Where?”
“Into town.”
“What for?”
“Before you all get killed I’m turning you over to the authorities.”
“We can take care of ourselves.”
“Yeah,” Shad Parker nodded toward the panther, “it looks like it.”
“Well . . .”
“Well, what?”
“Can’t you wait,” Austin pointed to his little brother, “till he stops crying?”
“He can stop crying on the way.”
Chapter 29
When the wagon stopped and the man stepped off, there was no doubt about it. The U.S. Marshal had come to town.
As he stood there in front of the livery, his shoulders spread more than a yard east and west and almost six feet off the ground. His massive head rose nearly another foot above the shoulders, rimmed by locks of long, bright yellow hair.
His outer garments were all of buckskin except for the black, wide-brimmed hat that was set squarely on his leonine head. The star was pinned close to the center of his buffalo chest. He wore two pearl-handled Colts, butts forward, out of twin black holsters attached to a black cartridge belt strapped high on his narrow hips. His eyes were slits of cobalt blue.
Just the sight of him reinforced any citizen’s faith in law enforcement.
“Julius Trapp,” he said to Dutch at the livery stable.
Dutch stared up at the man, who dwarfed even him, and nodded.
“U.S. Marshal. Picking up a couple of fugitives.”
Dutch nodded again. By then several citizens had formed a semicircle and also stared at the buckskin giant who spoke with a voice so deep it rumbled.
Elwood Hinge, carrying his shotgun, stepped through the semicircle and approached the other lawman. The men Hinge walked by were the Keeshaw brothers.
“Elwood Hinge, Marshal.” He put out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“And I you, sir.” The two lawmen shook hands. “I’ve heard about you, and what you did. Congratulations. Good job. I’m Julius Trapp.”
Elwood Hinge didn’t know it, but there were very few men Julius Trapp addressed as “sir” since mustering out of the Confederate army.
“Would you excuse me for just a minute, sir, while I finish up with this gentleman?” Trapp nodded toward Dutch.
“Of course,” Hinge responded.
“Oh, are the prisoners ready to travel?” he inquired of the sheriff.
“Two of them are.”
“So I heard.”
“You be leaving soon?”
“Yes, sir.” Trapp turned to Dutch as several more curious men, women, and children joined the crowd. “I’ll need fresh horses, a pair. Pick out the best team you have. I’ll swap you and throw in a bonus. A reasonable bonus, paid in U.S. scrip. That satisfactory?”
Dutch nodded.
“Well, sir,” Trapp turned back to Hinge, “lead the way.”
The citizens opened a path as Elwood Hinge, flanked to the left by Julius Trapp, walked toward his office.
“Godalmighty,” someone said out loud, “has somebody come to town!”
The Keeshaws headed back toward the Appaloosa, still looking at the two lawmen.
“Well, Deek,” Tom whispered, “that’s what we been waitin’ for.”
“Yep.” Deek cast a glance toward the bank. “We don’t have to wait much longer.”
“I’m sure as hell glad,” Bart mumbled, “that one didn’t come after us.”
* * *
Shad Parker’s wagon was more than halfway to Gilead. Davy sat next to him up front. The little boy’s eyes were still moist. Peg knelt behind them on the bed of the wagon, her eyes on the brink of tears. Austin sat staring at nothing.
“Please, mister,” she pleaded, “don’t let ’em send us back to that place. Please.”
Shad said nothing.
“We’ll leave the cave. You’ll never see us again . . . we promise.”
He didn’t even look back at the girl.
“They’ll split us up again. They’ll put Austin to work on some farm, but nobody’ll take Davy and me ’cause we’re too small. Please, mister . . .” Now she was crying. “Please . . .”
“Quit it, Peg.” Austin’s voice was harsh. “He don’t care.”
From his expression, or lack of it, Shad Parker didn’t.
* * *
Charlie Reno and Red Borden stood close together attached by a pair of handcuffs Julius Trapp had clapped on them tight as they would fit. As yet he hadn’t spoken to either of the two prisoners.
Homer Keeler leaned against the office wall and watched as Hinge handed the marshal a couple of photographs.
“Here’s pictures of the two deceased, identified as Frank Chase and Johnsy Reno, then buried.”
“Good enough.” Trapp took the photographs, folded them once, and put them inside his buckskin shirt.
“And here’s the six thousand,” Hinge pointed to his desk, “still in the sack from the Garden City Bank.”
“That’ll mean an additional reward for you, Sheriff. Fifteen percent of whatever is returned, and I’ll see that it is. If that’s satisfactory to you?”
“Tell him what I done, Sheriff!” Red Borden blustered. “Give him the letter you wrote!”
“The money was recovered, by Deputy Keeler here, due to the cooperation of one of the prisoners as stated here in this document . . .”
“For which I was promised special consideration by the sheriff . . .”
“I didn’t promise anything. Just wrote down what happened,” Hinge said.
“Now, goddammit! Just a minute! I expect . . .”
Red Borden never finished.
Julius Trapp struck him a blow with his right fist on the side of the face that knocked both Red and Charlie off their feet.
The action took everyone, including Hinge and Keeler, by surprise, but Red Borden was the only one bleeding, from the ear.
“My name is Trapp. Julius Trapp. Does that mean anything to you?” He spoke to the men on the floor.
Red Borden shuddered, put his free hand up to his leaking ear, and managed to shake his head no.
“I volunteered for this assignment. My brother was Jonas Trapp. You killed him back at Fort Smith during your escape from justice. I’m here to see that justice is done.”
“I didn’t kill him!” Red cringed, still on the floor.
“He’s dead. And as far as I’m concerned you killed him. All of you. It don’t matter which one did it. You’re both going to hang if you get there alive. If you don’t hang, I’ll kill you anyhow. Truth is, I’d rather. Now, get up.”
Julius Trapp hadn’t budged an inch from where he stood, all two hundred and forty-five pounds of him. Red Borden staggered to his feet, dragging Charlie Reno up with him.
Shad Parker’s wagon approached the main street of Gilead.
The U.S. Marshal stood by the side of his wagon, which was hitched to a fresh pair of horses. With his left hand he held the sack of money from the Garden City Bank. In addition to the handcuffs his prisoners were further attached by a pair of leg irons.
A couple dozen townsfolk had gathered once more and watched as the marshal loaded the two manacled men on the flat bed of the cart. The Keeshaws were there again, and this time so was Amos Bush.
Pete Inghram had come out of the store, along with three customers and Mrs. Inghram. The marshal took no notice of anyone except his prisoners until he turned to Elwood Hinge and extended his hand. They shook.
“Have a good trip, Marshal.”
The Christmas Trespassers Page 19