Burning

by William W. Johnstone

  As he worked, he thought about what a nice place this would be to settle down and raise a family in, which caused him to think about his estranged son and to even contemplate sending him a telegram and seeing if they couldn’t reconcile their differences.

  When he thought it through, though, he shook his head and looked down at Dog sitting patiently next to him. “No, I guess that wouldn’t do, would it, Dog?”

  The cur looked up at him and yawned before snapping a fly out of the air with a quick click of his jaws.

  A week passed without a single incident of violence in the town or in the series of valleys. The farmers’ crops were looking good, and the growing season, while relatively short, promised to yield a bumper crop. The several dozen carpenters who had been busy from spring to late summer in Valley View were now mostly gone.

  Only one crew remained in town, doing finishing work. Valley View now boasted a full two-and-a-half-block-long main street, with buildings on both sides of the wide street. The new hotel was finished, two stories high. Some of the more expensive rooms featured a bath and other more personal facilities.

  “Never heard of such a thing,” John Platt remarked. “Don’t seem a bit sanitary to me.”

  “It’s progress, John,” Frank told him.

  “It’s nasty, you ask me.”

  A new saloon was in operation. There were clothing stores for men and women, a leather and saddle store with shoe and boot repair. The apothecary shop featured the latest in medicines, mixed and prepared right there before your eyes, if you wanted to watch. Most people didn’t. Dr. Archer had a small clinic added to his office, for the more seriously ill, where they could be kept overnight in a series of small bunk beds lined up on either side of the room.

  A confectionery shop, with all kinds of candy and other sweet goodies, and featuring ice cream for both kids and adults, had been added to the main street. A town hall had been built, which would also be used as a place for stage plays.

  “Maybe they’ll bring in that play about you, Frank,” John Platt said with a grin.

  “The day they do is the day I leave,” Frank replied.

  Professor Fred Klugston, teacher of piano and other musical instruments, opened a studio just off Main Street. Alice Klugston, his wife, painted and sculpted and was, Frank heard, renowned in artistic circles. Alice opened a small gallery on Main Street, which featured her paintings of the mountains and scenes in the connecting valleys.

  “I hear tell she wants you to sit for a painting, Frank,” Joe Wallace told Frank.

  “She’ll wait a long time before that happens,” Frank replied.

  Valley View also had a band, made up of local people. They had several trumpets, a trombone, a tuba, and included a drummer and a cymbal crasher. Uniforms had been ordered for the band.

  Several of the farmers’ wives got together and opened a bakery, featuring all sorts of pies and cakes and fresh-baked bread, along with jellies and preserves and fresh-brewed coffee. The place was an immediate hit with the townspeople.

  And Frank had not heard a word from Mike Rogers, nor had he seen any more gunfighters leave the area.

  Things were going too well to suit Frank; he knew only too well about the lull before a storm. He’d been personally involved in many blowups over the years.

  “What’s the matter, Marshal?” Mayor Joe Wallace asked, walking up to Frank on a bright, sunny morning. “You look plumb grim.”

  “Things are going really well, Joe. Too well maybe. I’m just waiting for the other boot to drop.”

  “Maybe the other boot isn’t going to drop, Frank,” the mayor replied. “There’s been no trouble for over a week. No attacks on homesteads, no shootings here in town, nothing. Maybe you’re looking on the dark side for no reason.”

  “Maybe. I hope so. But I doubt it.”

  Joe smiled and patted Frank on the shoulder. “Relax, Marshal. Everything is going to be just fine.”

  “Joe,” Frank replied, softening his reply with a smile, “you’re a born politician.”

  Joe took the reply well. He laughed and said, “Maybe so, Frank. Maybe so.” He waved his hand at the busy street. “But you can’t deny progress now, can you?”

  “I reckon not.”

  “But you’ll still stand around looking glum, worrying over nothing while you wait for the lid to blow off?”

  Before Frank could reply, both men turned to look as a fast-moving buckboard came rattling up the street, coming in from the west side of the valley.

  “What the hell?” Joe questioned. “That driver is going too fast. There are women and kids out this morning.”

  “Who is that?” Frank asked.

  “I don’t know his name. I’ve seen him around a few times. I think he rides for the Diamond spread.”

  “Get Doc Archer!” the driver yelled. “Got a man shot here.”

  Frank stepped out into the street and ran alongside the racing horses for a dozen steps until he could grab their halters and halt the wagon. “What’s going on?” he asked, moving to the rear of the buckboard and peering over the sideboard.

  “It’s Mike Rogers, Marshal,” the drive said in a breathless voice. “He’s been shot.”

  “Over here!” Doc Archer shouted from the boardwalk in front of his office as he motioned toward the wagon.

  “Who shot him?” Frank asked.

  “His brother, Mark!” The driver jerked the horses’ heads around and pulled the wagon over in front of the doctor’s office.

  Frank walked back to the mayor while several citizens helped pick Mike’s limp body out of the buckboard and carry it into Dr. Archer’s office.

  “You mentioned something about the lid blowing off, Joe?” he said, looking back over his shoulder. “Well, it just blew.”

  “I wonder why Mark would want to shoot his brother,” the mayor said.

  Frank had a pretty good idea, but he wasn’t about to say until he’d found out exactly what had happened out at the Diamond spread.

  Twenty-nine

  Peaches came fogging it up in a cloud of just as Mike was being carried into Doc Archer’s clinic. She jumped off her pony and onto the boardwalk. Frank grabbed her and held her back.

  “Hold on, Peaches. He’s still alive. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

  “I wasn’t home. But a couple of the hands were. Jeff and Hootie said Mark and Mike had been arguing for about an hour. Mark was wearing a gun, Mike wasn’t. Mike came staggering out of the house, holding his side. Mark came running out after him, yelling and cussing, saying he was going to finish the job. Jeff and Hootie got between the brothers and Mark backed away. Jeff got the wagon ready and Hootie rode out to get me. That’s all I know.”

  “Where is Mark now?”

  “Still out at the ranch, I guess.”

  “Will Mike file charges against his brother?”

  “You bet he will.”

  “As soon as the doctor will let me talk to him, I’ll get rolling on that and ride out to get Mark.”

  “You better go in ready to shoot, Marshal. Mark won’t come in easy. You can bet on it.”

  “I’ll worry about that, Peaches. You go on in and be with your brother for a time.”

  Frank walked over to the livery and saddled Stormy. He checked his rifle, a .44-40, before mounting up.

  “I heard,” John Platt said, walking in through the huge front doors. “You goin’ out to the Diamond alone?”

  “It’s my job, John.”

  “You ought to put together a posse. It’s crazy going out after Mark alone. He’s surrounded by gunslingers.”

  “I doubt that Mark will still be at the ranch, John. He may be like his father, a little nutty, but he’s not stupid. He’s probably headed for the high country, hoping this thing will blow over.”

  “Has Mike filed charges against his brother?”

  “Not yet. I’m waiting to talk to him.”

  “While you’re waiting for that, I’ll put together some men to ride wi
th you.”

  “If you think that’s best.”

  “I think it is,” Mayor Joe Wallace said, walking up in time to catch the last bit of conversation. “And I’ve already got half a dozen lined up to go.”

  “Seven,” John said. “I’m in.”

  “All right,” Frank agreed. “Let me see if Mike can tell me anything. You boys get saddled up.”

  The bullet from his brother’s gun had struck Mike in his left flank and passed clear through.

  “I don’t believe it hit anything vital,” Doc Archer said, “or he would never have survived the ride in here in the back of a wagon. He’s going to be all right. What he needs now is rest.”

  “Did he say anything, Doc?” Frank asked.

  “He said his brother shot him. Said they were arguing about ending the valley war and cutting down the herd a bit. Mike said all of a sudden, with no warning except for some cursing, his brother pulled out his pistol and shot him. Then he laughed about it. Mike said he feels sure his brother has lost his mind.”

  “He sleeping now?”

  “Yes. I gave him a dose of laudanum so he would get some rest. That’s the best medicine for him now.”

  Peaches was standing on the boardwalk outside the doctor’s office. She was wearing a gun belt, a .32-20 in the holster, and she looked as if she was ready to use it.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Frank asked.

  “With you.”

  “The hell you are.”

  “The hell I’m not! You can’t keep me from going back home, Marshal. I’d damn sure like to see you try.”

  Frank smiled at the young woman. The last thing he wanted was to tangle with Peaches. “Suit yourself, Peaches. Let’s ride.”

  “I got me a fresh horse. Jeff and Hootie got fresh mounts from the livery. Anytime you’re ready, Marshal. I want to get home. I got some orders to give to the Diamond hands.”

  Five more locals had joined the posse, all of the men heavily armed and ready for trouble if it came to that. To a man they wanted the valley wars over with.

  Harvey Pitts, a lawyer who had recently moved into Valley View, stepped off the boardwalk to confront Frank and the posse. “I’m riding with you men,” the lawyer said. “I want to make certain this doesn’t turn into a lynch mob.”

  “There’ll be no lynching, Harvey,” Frank told the attorney. “I doubt we’ll even see Mark Rogers. I’ll make a bet he’s headed for the mountains and timber.”

  “I’m riding with you,” Harvey insisted.

  “Get mounted then. And be quick about it.”

  “I’m going too,” Reverend Carmondy said, riding up on a borrowed horse. “Someone might need some spiritual guidance.”

  “Yeah,” Lucy Perkins said, joining the group. “You can pray over the bastards once we hang them.” Like Peaches, Lucy had a pistol on her hip and fire in her eyes.

  “Where’d you come from?” Peaches asked her friend.

  “I come into town to shop. I just left the doctor’s office. I saw Mike. He’s sleeping. The doc says he’s gonna be all right.”

  “There’ll be no hanging, Lucy,” Frank told the young woman. “If we find Mark, I’ll arrest him, not hang him.”

  Lawyer Pitts looked at Frank for a silent moment. “Yes, I believe you mean that, Marshal. Despite your rather nasty reputation, I believe you.”

  “Wonderful,” Frank said sarcastically. “Let’s ride!”

  Just as Frank had predicted, Mark Rogers and his hired gunslingers were not at the ranch. A hand met the posse in the front yard.

  “They took off right after you left, Miss Peaches. They headed straight north, for the mountains.”

  Peaches stepped down from the saddle. “All right, Jim. Get the boys together. Until Mike is back on his feet, I’ll be running this spread. And effective right now, there are gonna be some changes made.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “Lucy.” Peaches turned to her friend. “Will you stay with me for a time? We’ll ride back into town later on this afternoon and see about Mike.”

  “Sure, I will.” Lucy hopped down from the saddle, and the two young women walked in the ranch house.

  “They’ve got a good three-to-four-hour jump on us, boys,” Frank told the posse. “I think—”

  “The rotten bastard cleaned out the safe,” Peaches yelled from the porch, her hands on her hips and her eyes blazing.

  “Relax,” Frank told her. “Mike told me he knows where your dad kept some working capital. And you can get the boys to rounding up some cattle right now to sell . . . before your brother rustles them.”

  “And you can bet he’d do it too,” Peaches called. “Great idea, Marshal. “Hootie!” she hollered. ”Tell the cook to get the chuck wagon ready, then get the boys, we’re startin’ a roundup!”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  Frank turned to the posse. “John, you and Earl come with me. We’ll do some tracking for a time. The rest of you men can head on back home.”

  “You sure, Frank?” Mayor Wallace asked.

  “I’m sure. Personally, I don’t think we’ll see Mark for some time. He’s running scared and won’t be back until emotions cool down. If he or any of his hired guns—and they’re all outlaws now, in the eyes of the law anyway—show up on Diamond range, some of the regular hands will shoot them dead, and Mark knows that.”

  “You bet we will,” the grizzled old cook said, walking toward the barn to hitch up a team. “Or hang the sorry bastards.”

  “Here now!” Lawyer Pitts said. “There’ll be none of that.”

  “Who the hell are you?” the cook questioned.

  “I am an attorney at law, sir,” Pitts answered in a very indignant tone.

  “Yeah? Well, that don’t spell buffalo crap to me. My advice to you is this: You best carry your gimpy ass back to town and leave the lawin’ to those who know how to do it.”

  Pitts puffed up like a balloon. “Well!”

  The cook gave him a very vulgar hand gesture and walked on.

  Frank thanked the posse and motioned to John and Earl. The three men waved good-bye to their friends and lifted their reins. The three of them rode off toward the north.

  “Lawyer Pitts and Preacher Carmondy is followin’ us,” John said, glancing over his shoulder after they’d been riding for a couple of hours.

  “I can’t force them to turn back,” Frank replied. “If they catch a bullet, it’s their own fault.”

  “Don’t neither of them have a bedroll or any supplies,” Earl said, looking back at the two men.

  “Then it’s going to be a cold, hungry night for them,” Frank remarked.

  John chuckled. “Nights do get right chilly in this country.”

  “And we’ll be in rough country in another hour,” Earl observed, a tight smile on his lips.

  It didn’t take long for the preacher and the lawyer to realize they had made a mistake. Several hours before the sun began to dip into the western horizon, Reverend Carmondy called out. Frank rode back to the lawyer and the preacher.

  “I think we’ll head back to town,” Richard said.

  “Good idea,” Frank told him.

  “Ah . . .” Lawyer Pitts said, avoiding Frank’s steady gaze. “There is a small matter, however.”

  “You don’t know the way back,” Frank finished for him.

  “Ah . . . well . . . in a word, yes.”

  Frank shook his head in disgust. “Head straight south-east. You’ll come to the main road. There is no way in hell you can miss it”

  Richard pointed. “That way?” he asked.

  Frank sighed. “No, Richard. That’s southwest. But . . . that will take you to the road too. You’ll just be miles west of Valley View.”

  “The bunch split up,” John called from a ridge after the preacher and lawyer had left. “Looks like they paired up and then scattered in all directions.”

  “I thought they would,” Frank called back. “Come on back.”

  John
and Earl returned and Frank said, “There is no point in us going on a wild-goose chase. We’d be chasing the wind. Let’s head on back to town. Mark will show up one of these days.”

  “And his hired guns?” Earl asked.

  “As long as Mark has the money to pay them, they’ll stay. They’ll all show up eventually. Then we’ll deal with them. I’ll wire the sheriffs in adjoining counties and tell them what’s happening.” He lifted the reins. “Come on, we’ll be back in time for supper.”

  John gave a short laugh. “Five will get you ten we’ll be back in town five hours before the preacher and the lawyer.”

  Frank joined in the laughter this remark caused. “You’ll not get a bet from me on that, John,” he said. “Now if you want to wager whether we have to send out a hunting party to bring ’em in or not . . .”

  “Only if I get to bet on them gettin’ plumb lost,” John answered.

  Thirty

  Mike was awake and alert when Frank and the remaining members of the posse got back to town.

  “The doc tells me you’re going to be just fine, Mike,” Frank said from the bedside.

  “I’ll be up and looking for that worthless brother of mine before you know it, Marshal.”

  “Let me take care of your brother, Mike. You just get well and get back to running the Diamond.”

  Mike smiled wearily. “I’ll bet you Peaches can run it just as good as I can.”

  Frank told him what Peaches was doing . . . as much as he’d heard before pulling out with the posse earlier that day.

  “Good for her. The doc says I can go home in three or four days. But I’ll have to stay close to a bed for about a week.”

  “You rest, Mike. I’ll stop by tomorrow. Lucy and Peaches will be coming into town later on this evening.”

  “See you, Marshal.”

  Frank rode back to his house and fed Dog, then played with the big cur for a time.

  “Did you miss me, ol’ fellow?” Dog barked loud and enthusiastically. Frank laughed and said, “I guess you did. I haven’t had much time to spend with you lately. But all that is going to change very soon, I’m thinking. Another month and we’re going to hit the trail. Where do you want to go? South?”

  Dog barked and ran around in circles for a moment.