King of Spades

by Frederick Manfred

  Curly stared down at Ransom. “Well, and what do you want, sonny?”

  Ransom touched his right hand to his right eye. “Shoot me down too.”

  Curly jerked erect. His horse moved under him. “Hold on. Why?”

  “Go on. Smoke me.” Ransom smiled full white teeth. He felt all men hang on him. His lean belly was hot. His green eyes were cold. “No risk to you.”

  “You better dust, kid. This ain’t your play.”

  “Smoke me.” Ransom flicked a look at Curly’s smoking gun. “You already got your jack out.”

  “You got you some kind of ace in the hole then, I take it?”

  “No, no ace. Just the king of spades maybe.” Ransom’s fingers hung loose.

  “And that’ll top my jack?”

  “Let’s try it.”

  Curly sneered elaborately. “You little doughgut you, that’s the queen of hearts you’re holding. Better yet, the whore of hearts. I know all about you and Kate. She’s old enough to be your mother, kid.”

  “Whore of hearts, is it?”

  “One man’s trash another man’s treasure.”

  “Smoke me.”

  Curly gave himself another great lazy stretch. “You’re just full of barbwire whiskey, kid. You better get high behind before I irrigate your belly.”

  “Try it.”

  Curly swung his gun up and laid it between the ears of his horse. He aimed it right at Ransom’s eyes. “All right, kid, take a good look at my gun. See that bullet in there all ready and set for the jump?”

  Ransom could tell Curly’s next move by the skim on his eyes. Ransom smiled. “Let drive, if that’s your mind. I’ve got nothing to live for anyway.”

  “Pull, kid, and I’ll shoot you down like a sheep.”

  Ransom did. He gut-shot him. Curly was quicker, but he was sitting on a stirring horse and his bullet missed. Ransom felt the bullet pass between his arm and his body. It whacked into the base of the bar behind him.

  Curly leaned over his horse’s neck. Blood rushed out of Curly’s belly as if he were vomiting out of his navel. Then Curly fell to the floor.

  There was a collective sigh. Then a roar all at once.

  “Good riddance!” cried a gleeful voice.

  Troy Barb quickly ran up and secured the horse.

  Ransom opened his gun, picked out the empty shell with thumb and forefinger, dropped the shell in a cuspidor, clink, replaced it with a fresh cartridge from his belt.

  Before men could beat him on the back and thank him for daring to stand up to the terrible Curly Griffin, Ransom ducked outdoors.

  Katherine stood waiting for him in the entryway, all smiles, dressed in stunning ivory velvet. “Come in, Ransom.” Before he could stop her, she stood on her toes and kissed him. “All is forgiven.” Then she took him by the hand and led him to his easy chair in front of the bay window. She unbuckled his belt and gun and placed them on the table. With a slight pressure she made him sit down.

  His eyes were two hells.

  “How are you, Ransom?”

  “Fine.”

  “Poor boy. Come.”

  She removed his boots. She lifted first his right foot up on the footstool and then his left foot. Smiling, with the air of a woman who knows she is hauntingly beautiful, she stroked his ankles and soothed his feet over the instep and massaged his calves. Then, as a final touch of wifely solicitude, with thumb and forefinger she took the tuck out of his socks between the big toe and the little toes.

  His eyes became two pools of silvery green.

  “What’s the matter, honey?”

  “I don’t deserve that.”

  “Ransom, I want my husband happy.”

  His belly was full of disaster. He felt as if he had ingested a couple of plates of gray ashes soaked in moldy vinegar. He thought: “I’m never going to get out of this.”

  Again she reached in with thumb and forefinger, prettily, and unbuttoned his collar.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Why not? You’re my husband, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not worth it.”

  “Come now, my husband. A handsome man never needs to apologize.”

  “Kate, I have a soul of mud.”

  “Ransom.”

  He made a last effort to push her away. Around her it was always as if his belly was in the grip of the suck of a whirlpool drawing him over and down. “Kate, what miserable dogs we all are.”

  She took the pushing, and still managed to smile. “Why, Ransom, what a mean thing to say.”

  The hells in his eyes came back. “Kate, I just killed another man.”

  She shrank visibly. She seemed to wither ten years before his very eyes.

  “Kate, why don’t you just get an ax and cut off my right hand? At the wrist? Please?” He settled deeper into his easy chair.

  She made a sound as if she’d at last lost salvation.

  “Or else get the butcher knife and cut off my johnny-nods.”

  A withered savage grandmother, torn from her favorite pestle and mortar, looked out at him from Katherine’s brown eye.

  “Kate, I’m slowly getting worse and worse.” He rolled his head from side to side. “Somebody had better gun me down too. And that right soon.”

  A violent shudder went through her body, from her eyes to her toes.

  “Oh, you needn’t worry that they’ll come and get me. Yet. They’re all too happy that I did what I did. As happy as a bunch of sheep that somebody got the wolf for them.”

  “Who was it this time?”

  “Curly Griffin.”

  “Him?” She clapped hand to mouth.

  “Yes. The one you wondered if I was a lookout for.”

  “I was wrong then.”

  “Did you know him?”

  Her brown eye held steady.

  “He said he knew you, Kate.”

  “Please, Ransom.”

  “He called you the whore of hearts, Kate.” Vomit threatened to erupt in the back of his throat.

  She jerked her face away. “So I am Kate to you now, Ransom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well!” Katherine’s chin slowly set out. “Well! I’ve had enough at last.” She snapped around, turning her back on him, and gathering up her long ivory velvet gown, slowly moved across the room and went upstairs.

  “At last.”

  Katherine slammed the door to the bedroom upstairs. Hard. Violently. The green house rang with it.

  Again the slamming set him off. A frenzy of primitive rage flashed all through him. He came up out of his easy chair moaning with it. He grabbed up his gun from the table and in three bounds was up the stairs. He kicked open the bedroom door.

  She had just turned up the lamp. She whirled around. “Magnus!”

  Old words burst loose in him. “You’re a bad woman!” He took hold of his gun with both hands and deliberately aimed it at her belly, at where that wrinkled smiling scar would be under her dress, at their coming baby. “Better that we both should die.”

  “Help, help! My husband is killing me! Oh, God, God!”

  He fired.

  She dropped.

  He stood over her and emptied the rest of his gun into her, five more shots, one of them into her good eye. “Now for sure I’m never going to get out of this.”

  At dawn neighbor ladies came to lay out Katherine.

  Later in the morning a committee of miners came to get Ransom. The committee was led by Troy Barb.

  Troy Barb said, “This time you have went too far.”

  Ransom handed over his gun.

  “Well, I see you agree.”

  Ransom said nothing.

  “Well, pard, I guess it’s my duty to tell you that we’re gonna hold court on you at the foot of Mt. Moriah.” Troy Barb took Ransom firmly by the arm. “Come along.”

  Ransom went along quietly.

  A committee member said, “We boys should’ve held court on him the first time.”

  Troy Barb said, “I thought
of it personal.”

  “Why didn’t you talk up then?”

  “Because we was partners. But now he’s just went too far.”

  Another committee member said, “I like the kid. Is this gonna be a kangaroo court?”

  “This’ll be a miners’ court.” Troy Barb’s moon eyes couldn’t quite hold up to the committee man. “Fair and square.”

  The first committee member said, “Good. Because it’s high time he took the big jump, the way he’s killing off people.”

  They tied Ransom’s hands at the wrists behind his back.

  A green sun shone on staggered pines. The granite peaks glistened. The October sky bloomed blue. The town brook trickled. A downhill breeze touched the cheek.

  The bad news spread like a great stage whisper. Miners streamed down out of the Hills. They gathered in a black mass at the foot of Mt. Moriah. Some stood on stumps. Some climbed partway up the sides of Mt. Moriah to get a better view of the proceedings. Their dust-rimmed eyes were grim. Most were armed.

  Across the brook, women in long dresses also formed lines on high ground.

  A dozen men worked at setting up a gallows.

  Ransom stood waiting. Troy Barb’s grip on his arm was tight.

  Clusters and groups of men kept coming down out of the Hills. The crowd thickened and thickened. The multitude of men was like a great thunderhead gathering weight and dimension.

  At last the gallows was ready. A noose hung dangling over an upright salt barrel.

  Then four well-dressed men came striding down the gulch: Sumner Todd, the judge, Clifford Maule and John Clemens, the lawyers, and Carleton Ames, the newspaperman. Their black top hats stuck out above the crowd. All four wore six-shooters under their black coats. Maule had a gimpy leg and had to hurry to keep up with the others. The black crowd made way for them. The four stepped toward Ransom solemnly.

  “I got ’m!” Troy Barb cried. “He came as meek as a mouse.”

  Judge Todd nodded, and stood off to one side a little. Lawyer Maule glared darkly at Ransom. Newspaperman Ames watched with darting eyes.

  Only John Clemens had a kind word for Ransom. “I’m sorry, son.”

  Ransom’s lips remained silent in his black beard.

  Maule hopped up on a stump. He surveyed the grim crowd.

  Silence spread through the gulch. A half-fallen pine creaked where it hung caught on another pine.

  Maule lifted his right arm. “Men!” His heavy voice resounded in the gulch with gravelly effect. “Men, this is a sad day for us all. As I need not remind you.” He turned to all sides, limping as he did so. “But we must do our duty.”

  Solitary crags glistened gold in the sun.

  “Men, one of us has killed his wife. This is a crime in any society.” Maule stared each man in the eye. “We are still not legally a part of the United States of America, so we cannot call on the law of the States to handle this matter. Yet law we must have in this out-of-bounds territory. If we do not behave as a law-abiding people in this place, with such natural law as we already have in our hearts, we can never expect the States to accept us in time as an equal, a sister state among sister states.”

  Silence. Pines. Stones.

  “There is no doubt that the eyes of the country, yes, the world, are upon us to see what we shall do in this matter.” Maule’s large lips writhed. “And in particular our attitude toward our women will determine what our sister states will think of us. All men know that the eternal feminine is needed to draw men upward.” Maule’s eyes seethed. “Therefore we have gathered together in a miners’ court to render justice and to punish the guilty. Is this agreed?”

  All the black hats nodded.

  “Now in the matter as to how we shall conduct this miners’ court, what is your wish?”

  There were various shouts. “We got a judge here in the crowd. Let him preside. He knows the business.”

  “Sumner Todd?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Again Maule held up his hand. “Then it’s agreeable to you that Sumner Todd shall serve as judge?”

  There was a general shout of assent.

  “Let’s have a show of hands. Those in favor of Sumner Todd serving as judge raise their right hand.”

  Right hands came up like flights of arrows.

  “Against.”

  The hands fell down.

  “Carried.”

  Maule turned to Sumner Todd. “Judge, now it’s your show.” Maule stepped down off the stump.

  Judge Todd looked slowly around. He spotted a light spring wagon standing off to one side. “Somebody roll that democrat over here. We’ll use that as the bench.”

  “Good idee. Hurray for the judge.” The democrat was rolled forward.

  Judge Todd climbed solemnly into the democrat and sat down on the spring seat up front. He took off his top hat and placed it carefully on the seat beside him. He had a forehead like a horse hoof. He took his gun and placed it on his top hat. “Now. As to the first order of business. We shall have to appoint a prosecutor. Anybody have any objection to Clifford Maule as prosecutor?”

  There were no objections.

  Judge Todd looked down with a crinkly smile as Maule, pleased, stepped up to the democrat bench. “Will the counsel for the state kindly remove his hat in respect of the law?”

  There was a cheer. “Hurray for the judge. That’s letting him know who’s boss.”

  Maule obeyed the request. The sun shone gold on his bald head.

  Judge Todd pursed his mouth until his upper lip touched the point of his nose. “Who’ll serve as counsel for the defense?”

  John Clemens removed his hat and stepped forward. “I will, Your Honor.”

  “Is that agreeable to all assembled here?”

  It was.

  “And who will serve as hangman?”

  All eyes flicked from the judge to the condemned and back again.

  “Anybody?”

  Troy Barb raised his hand. “I will, if nobody else will.”

  Judge Todd stared down at Troy Barb. “I understand that you’re known as the best knot-maker in town.”

  “I try my best.”

  “It is so ordered.”

  The second committee member spoke up. “What have you got against the kid, Troy?”

  “Nothing. Just that he’s starting to kill too many people.”

  “Now as to the jury,” the judge went on. “Shall we pick twelve men good and true? Or shall we let the entire assembly serve as jury?”

  There was a tangle of voices.

  The judge asked for another show of hands.

  Most wanted the gulch to vote on it as a whole.

  “So be it.” Judge Todd looked down at Ransom. “The prisoner will now climb the salt barrel. Help him up there, you.

  Ransom was helped onto the barrel.

  Troy Barb climbed up beside Ransom and dropped the noose around his neck. Then he jumped down.

  “Poor feller,” the second committee member murmured. “It’s gonna be no breakfast forever for him.”

  A cortege came from behind Ransom’s green house and headed down the street toward them. In a moment there was a commotion at the far edge of the black mob.

  Judge Todd sat up. “Hold on, what’s that coming?”

  Maule looked. “I fear that’s the body of the victim, Your Honor.”

  “Ah.” Judge Todd stood up. “Rather an odd time to be holding a funeral. But since the fact is a fact, we’ll take advantage of it.” He raised his voice. “Hey you, out there. Bring the body to the bench.”

  The cortege hesitated; then pushed into the crowd.

  “Set it down in front right there so that it may be part of the evidence. Corpus delicti.”

  The pine coffin was set on a couple of stumps for all to see. Although cut but an hour before, the boards of the coffin were already sweating rosin.

  “Open the coffin,” Judge Todd ordered.

  “But judge,” one of the pallbearers protested
, “she ain’t fit to be seen.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s all shot up.”

  “All the more reason to put the body on view.”

  “Well, if you say so.”

  The coffin was opened. Katherine lay eyeless under the sun.

  Ransom closed his eyes.

  Judge Todd nodded down at Maule. “You may begin for the state, counsel.”

  Maule reascended his stump. He faced the crowd. “Friends. Fellow miners. The fate of a fellow miner is in your hands. Listen carefully to the evidence and the pleadings. Then consult your heart and your conscience and render justice according.” Maule next turned to Ransom. “I too am sorry that it had to come to this.” Maule paused for emphasis. “But!” Maule made a pass over his bald head with his hand. “You, Earl Ransom, you finally went too far!” Maule took a deep breath. “Yes, you did the community a favor, in a way, when you got rid of both Bullneck Bill and Curly Griffin for us. We all agree that they were no good to anyone any more and that they deserved killing.” Maule paused for another big breath. “But when you killed a wife and possible mother”—Maule tolled his head—“no, no, that was going too far. No matter what the cause may have been to make you do it, that was going too far.”

  A far voice hallooed down the gulch. “Here comes the stage, gents!”

  Everybody turned to look.

  A plume of dust appeared at the far turn of the main dugway.

  PART FOUR

  Magnus King

  1

  Magnus rode up on the boot beside the driver.

  As the stagecoach rounded the last curve above Dead-wood, Swifty the driver let the ribbons out some and cracked his long whip just once. The six bay horses, already scenting fresh grass below, surged into their collars like cyclones.

  Swifty allowed himself a slow weathered smile. “I always likes to give my horses their head on this last stretch.” The smile crinkled all the way back up under his ears. “It’s a good way to jolt the cricks outof your back. My passengers always appreciates it.

  ”Magnus didn’t smile much. He had a bad back. It was the main reason why he’d asked for a seat up on the boot. He wanted to know when the bumps were coming.

  The clicking yellow wheels began to spin faster and faster, until they became the color of gold. Twenty-four hoofs beat a swiftly increasing snare-drum cadence on the pocked road.