Vermijo

  Jim, meanwhile, loomed over Luke, whose skin the color of a corpse. For one moment Jim thought that he might actually be dead, but then saw the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He said, ‘How I’d love to send you to meet Saint Peter.’

  ‘Then why don’t we string him up right here an’ now, Jim?’ Carl asked. ‘Or give him over to Ed. I’m damn sure he’d love to use that blade of his on something other than a piece of wood. That right, Ed?’

  Ed gripped the stag antler handle of his Bowie and gave Carl a lopsided grin. ‘I ain’t ever stuck a human…yet.’

  ‘And you ain’t gonna stick this ’un,’ Jim interrupted. ‘He stays alive until we get him to town. I got me another use for the boy. First we bury Ace, then we show Vermijo what happens when the Lockharts get mad.’

  ~*~

  A strong wind swirled dust down Vermijo’s main street.

  On the sidewalk Eve Lockhart, dressed in widow’s weeds, held her bonnet down firmly on her head and continued her conversation with Ruby Tucker.

  ‘I been thinking of movin’ on,’ she said.

  Ruby’s eyes brightened. ‘You have? Good for you, Eve.’

  It was late afternoon and the fierce heat of the day was losing its bite. They were standing outside Ripley’s Haberdashery. Ruby’s fabric order had arrived and the bolt of cloth was wrapped and firmly held under her arm. A handful of Vermijo’s townsfolk acknowledged the ladies with a nod or a small wave of the hand, whilst others ignored them. That didn’t bother the women as they were so engrossed in their exchange.

  ‘Sure. All I need to do is see Ace buried and there’ll be nothing left for me here in this hellhole. But I can’t even do that. Not while his brothers are hunting down his killer.’

  Ruby laid her hand lightly on Eve’s forearm. ‘You’re a strong woman,’ she said.

  ‘Am I, Ruby? I really don’t know about that.’

  Eve absently raised a hand to her bruised face. Her bottom lip was still swollen and where the skin had split there was a dry, crusted wound. The purple and black coloring around the right eye had reduced but it still pained her at times. Did she feel that strong? No, she knew that the last beating Ace had given her had taken something out of her. She could tell Ruby that she didn’t feel that strong but instead said: ‘Ace wasn’t much of a husband in the end. But I have to show some respect and see him buried. And Lord knows when that will be.’

  ‘For sure, honey. Then you make up your mind what to do.’

  Eve was encouraged by her friend’s words.

  ‘And the Lockharts,’ Ruby added.

  ‘Them too.’

  Ruby pulled her shawl tighter across her shoulders as though the very mention of their name felt like a chill breeze.

  ‘Eve, dear, you’re not the first woman to be disappointed by a man. And you won’t be the last.’

  Eve played with her wedding ring, twisting it around her finger. After a moment she said, ‘So this ring ends up being meaningless, is that what you’re saying? He said he would love and honor me.’

  ‘What he said and what he does…did…are two different things. He may have loved you at one point, but when he stopped, I can’t know that. Do you?’

  She shook her head. ‘But I recall the first time he struck me. I said, Why did you do that? He just laughed in my face and said, Because I can and because I wanted to.’

  ‘You poor thing,’ Ruby sympathized. ‘That man deserved what he got. And not a moment too soon.’

  ‘I don’t know what I did to make him treat me that way. I was an honest wife, worked hard tryin’ to keep him happy but it didn’t seem enough for him. Any chance he could get to hit the bottle, he did. But that didn’t happen from the start. We were happy…for a while at least. There isn’t a day that goes by when I thought to myself why did I put up with his violence.’

  ‘That’s all behind you now, Eve. Of course you’re going to feel low. Not everybody knows what you’re going through right now. I know that Ace wasn’t well-liked by many…oh I don’t like speaking ill of the dead but even a man such as Ace Lockhart didn’t deserve to be killed by some drifter.’

  Eve’s eyes swam with threatened tears. Her vision was blinded momentarily, and she had to blink several times to clear them.

  ‘Someday you’ll find a man who’ll love you.’ Ruby had taken hold of Eve’s hand now and gently held onto it. ‘Look at me and Hiram. Married these past fifteen years now. I know it seems longer but we’re happy together. We’ve gone through rough times. And, like you, we lost a child but we got on with our lives.’

  ‘I didn’t know that…I’m sorry.’

  Ruby waved it off, surprised that even after the years that had passed she still felt strong sentiments associated with the death of her only child. She fought back a tear and said, ‘It was a long while ago and, well, we were never blessed again. So we upped stakes from Montana and came here to start afresh.’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Though lately, this place hasn’t been so nice to live in.’

  ‘I could go back to my brother, Caleb and his wife,’ Eve said in a far-off voice. ‘They live over in Nogales. I think he might be happy to see me. Perhaps he’d take me in.’

  ‘That’s a thought.’

  Eve drew in a breath and said, ‘Thank you for talking with me.’

  ‘It’s the least I can do, espec—’

  Her final word was drowned out by the sound of the church bell tolling. Both women involuntarily jumped and looked toward the building, wondering why the bell was sounding. It wasn’t the usual call to church chime. Others stopped in their tracks and did the same.

  At the far end of the street the church doors were flung open and Father Aloysius Gandle, Vermijo’s Catholic priest and undertaker, stood in the threshold. He was hatless and his bald pate glistened with sweat. He wore a boiled shirt tucked into black pants with a pair of suspenders dangling at his sides. He looked down the street and strode out of his domain with a purpose. If there was only one thing his years of sermonizing from the pulpit had taught him it was how to hold an audience in the palm of his hands. And for certain he had himself an audience now.

  He pointed to north trail and said in a deep, sonorous voice: “The posse’s coming!”

  ~*~

  At the same time the posse was arriving in Vermijo, Frank Tyler was struggling to mount his mule and head for town.

  Frank hadn’t regained consciousness for many hours after the posse had left him for dead. By the time he did come round, the sun had disappeared from the sky. It was the whickering of his mule that finally brought him back from the dead. For a moment he couldn’t remember where he was and when he moved, the agony rolled over him like an express train. He collapsed back and felt a bolt of pain spear his stomach.

  After a few moments of rest that could have been anywhere between twenty minutes or an hour, Frank managed to raise himself into a semi-sitting position. He slowly put his hand to the source of the pain and found that blood had dried and crusted the shirt to his skin. Frank looked down at the ruined shirt, and working under the light of the moon began to unbutton it and inch it carefully away from his stomach to reveal the gunshot wound. It was round and puckered with some jagged skin around the outer edges, and was the color of burnt ochre.

  He was in pain but he knew he had to find out just how badly hurt he was. He dry-swallowed and then gently touched the wound. It hurt. He hissed through clenched teeth. This wasn’t the first time he’d been shot but the previous occasion he’d been younger and fitter. Back then he had taken it in his stride, as much as he could. Now, he was an older man. Luckily enough, though he didn’t feel especially lucky right then, he’d been shot in the left side just above the hip bone, through soft flesh. A couple of inches to the right and he would have been gut shot. That kind of injury was a certain killer.

  He hesitated before pressing down harder, trying to discover if the bullet was still lodged inside. He couldn’t feel it, so he figured the .45 from Carl’s pistol was either burie
d deep or had gone right through. A quick examination of his back proved that it had passed through. All he knew for certain was that it had busted him up a mite, and he was losing more blood than he could spare. But if he stopped the flow, he might just survive.

  He needed to get the wound dressed, and to do that he had to get back to the cave.

  He felt weak as a newborn. His head spun and his legs felt like jelly. He half-dragged and half-crawled back to the cave’s entrance. When he finally reached it, the exertion had opened up the wound and he was bleeding again. He made an effort to stand up, using the wall for support, but his legs went out from underneath him. The impact of hitting the ground sent shockwaves through his body. He was as weak as a rag doll.

  ‘Come on, old feller,’ he croaked.

  After resting up a few minutes, he struggled to his feet once more, and this time with more success. He lit a small glass kerosene lamp and shuffled into the cave. He stumbled once, caught himself and paused. His heart was racing like mad. With one hand on the wall for support, the other holding the lamp, he carried on to the rear of the cave where there was a small leather chest.

  When he reached the chest he had only gone a few yards but he was perspiring and he blinked away the sweat. Gingerly, he lowered himself to his knees. He raised the lid and lifted out some rags of cloth. He dropped the lid and put the rags on top and set the lamp down next to them. Next he found a water canteen, gave it a shake to make sure there was ample water in it and put that down.

  When he stood, he was unsteady on his feet and waves of pain flowed over him. He knew he had to cauterize the wound before he lost consciousness. He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a long-bladed folding knife and opened it out. He raised the wick on the lamp and then balanced the blade across the top of the chimney. He took one of the rags and uncorked the canteen with his teeth, poured some water over the wound and used the rag to clean away as much of the blood as he could, front and back.

  Breathing hard, he prepared himself for the next step. He was surprised to see how steady his hand was when he reached for the knife. The blade glowed red and he could feel the heat coming off of it.

  He hesitated. ‘Come on, Frankie boy,’ he chided. ‘You ain’t gonna die now.’

  He stuffed the damp rag into his mouth and clamped down hard on it. He held the blade inches above the entry hole and inhaled deeply through his nose. Held his breath and very slowly brought the searing hot knife’s blade down onto the bullet hole. His face contorted with pain and the intense agony lasted only a few minutes and he held onto consciousness. His suffering only increasing when he reheated the blade and managed to press the knife to the exit wound. The knife fell from his fingers and he spat out the rag. He looked down at the wound. In the lamplight it didn’t look too bad…the area of the burn was red and the skin had already begun to rise. The cave was filled with the stench of burnt flesh.

  Exhausted, he slumped back against the cave wall. He couldn’t do any more now but survive. Frank Tyler wasn’t going to die. He wouldn’t allow it. Thirty-odd years as a lawman, and only one time before had he been wounded.

  Frank had been with the Rangers, tracking down a bank robber and rapist by the name of Jared Cruz. They had followed him to a small village in northern Texas, and Frank and three other Rangers thought they had him trapped. They were about to move in when suddenly a woman was standing next to him. She had sided up to him as silently as a cat and he gave a little start when he finally realized she was there. He noted that she was unharmed and relaxed a little. She had a puzzled expression on her face, no doubt wondering why these Anglos were in her town. Tyler was a lot taller than her and over her head he saw Cruz stood in the doorway of a small jackal. He had no idea what had alerted Cruz to their presence but the next thing he knew, the little Mexican had two guns in his hands and pointed them at him and the other Rangers, and opened fire. The way Frank remembered it, his first thought was to protect the woman and he had grabbed her roughly by the arm and spun around to move her to safety. A slug whacked into the back of his left shoulder and he went down, hard.

  Maybe she was totally innocent—maybe not—but Frank never got to ask as she had taken a bullet in the back of her head and was dead on the ground. Cruz’s death hadn’t been so quick. When they dragged him out of the jackal, he had been hit seven times about the body and taken two in the face.

  As Tyler sat and listened to the night, the only sounds were natural to his surroundings. A wave of nausea rolled over him and suddenly knew he was going to pass out. His last waking thought was that his grandson needed him.

  Seven

  The pale-skinned Asian girl lay with her head in the crook of Jim Lockhart’s left arm. Her long black hair framed her soft, almost babyish face. She called herself CeeCee. It was far better than the name her parents gave her – Chee Yu. They had come to the goldfields of California from the Pearl Delta Region in China back in the mid-fifties. One disaster after another had led them to Tombstone and its silver mines. At fifteen years old she began to earn more on her back than her father did breaking his back in the mines. CeeCee was a prostitute…and a good one at that. That was why Jim would ride the two miles out of town to pay her frequent visits.

  They lay in her bed, with white sheets rumpled about their bodies. Long fascinated by men with hairy chests, she ran her slim fingers through Jim’s thick carpet of chest hairs, twisting them in an idle circular motion. Both were getting their breath back. Jim looked up at the ceiling, eyes cold and calculating. He took a drag on his cigarette and let the smoke trickle from his lips. Their enthusiastic lovemaking forgotten, his mind was once again restless. He lay against the pillows and thought about four hours ago…

  He had led the posse into Vermijo with a sense of pride. They had ridden hard all morning. He had planned that they would enter town at a time when it would be the busiest, and therefore their entry would make the most impact.

  He and his men and their horses were exhausted. He didn’t care how Luke Tyler felt, just as long as he stayed alive long enough to be hung. It was going to be simple and clear-cut. Tyler would be strung up for killing his brother.

  As they rode pass the gallows, he glanced back over his shoulder and saw the look of utter despair that stole over Luke’s face. He couldn’t and didn’t hide his smile. It made him feel so much better to see the misery that Luke was suffering.

  There were about thirty people lining the street. Lockhart had expected more but didn’t show his disappointment. As they continued on slowly towards the law office, he looked about him. He recognized the citizens and filed away their names in his head. The only sounds in the street were the horses’ hooves striking ground and the creak of saddle leather. There was nothing from the crowd. Not one goddamn word.

  Carl pulled up his mount alongside and said, ‘What’s the matter with these people? We’ve done our job and brought in a killer, and they ain’t got an appreciative bone in their bodies.’

  ‘Don’t let it faze you, Carl,’ Jim responded.

  ‘The hell I—’

  ‘Carl,’ he warned gently and raised a finger to his lips to shush him.

  Carl’s face darkened. He wanted to say more. He wanted to shout and cuss at these people. He wanted to know how his brother could stay so calm. There was only one person at whom he could direct his anger and frustration.

  He searched for a familiar face in the crowd and found Eve standing next to Ruby Tucker. He spurred his mount across to where his sister-in-law stood and reined in.

  ‘We promised to bring back Ace’s killer,’ he said coldly and pointed behind him. ‘And here he is.’

  Carl reeled in the rope and was met by very little resistance. He swung out of the saddle and with an arrogant swagger, dragged Luke into full view.

  The sight of the battered and near-to-death stranger stunned Eve into silence. She slowly shook her head as the murderer looked up at her. His eyes seemed to implore for forgiveness.

  ‘Nothin
g to say, Eve?’ Carl sneered.

  ‘I…I…’ she stammered.

  Ruby was quick to grab Eve’s arms as her legs threatened to go from underneath her.

  A wide smile spread over Carl’s face and he grabbed Luke by the hair and threw a series of punches that made him groan and double over.

  ‘No…no more,’ Luke gasped.

  Ignoring him, Carl brought his knee up into Luke’s face with a sickening force that sent him sprawling on his back.

  ‘Stop!’ Eve called out. ‘You’re killing him!’

  ‘My God, Eve. You actually think I care?’ said Carl.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. She felt physically sick.

  ‘Lockhart, you’ve done enough,’ Ruby said, her words delivered without a trace of fear. ‘You’ve got what you went for. Now let the man alone.’

  Carl glared at her but Ruby Tucker refused to look away.

  ‘You should mind your business, lady.’

  ‘What’re you going to do? Hang me too? I don’t scare, Lockhart, so don’t waste your time trying to make me back off. That would take more of a man than you’ll ever be.’

  There was a soft gasp from some of the townspeople close by at Ruby’s words.

  For a moment it seemed Carl might respond. Then he took a slow breath, realizing even he wouldn’t get away with dealing with a woman. He looked to his brother and jerked a thumb at Ruby. ‘See what I mean about this damn town bein’ ungrateful?’

  Carl wagged his head and turned his back on the two women. He remounted and wrapped the rope around the saddlehorn once more. He glanced back at the groaning heap on the ground, gigged his mount into a walk and dragged the unconscious body along behind him.

  ~*~

  The funeral of Ace Lockhart took place in a rainstorm.

  The weather that had been threatening to break over the last day or two. Come sun-up, the thunderheads had rolled in across the Pajarito Mountains and gathered over Vermijo. They brought heavy winds that turned the air damp and heavy. Trees and buildings creaked and bent as the winds whipped about them. The clouds were charcoal gray and virtually turned day into night.