by Alan Black
The man pushed the plate away. “Oh Lordy! The smell is enough to make me sick. I need some hair of the dog.”
LillieBeth said, “I think you have already had the whole dog: hair, hide, and offal. You are a living example of why Carrie Nation smashed up saloons with a hatchet.”
Taradittles said, “Crazy woman.”
“Miss Nation was not crazy. She just-”
“Not her,” Taradittles interrupted. “I was talking about you.”
LillieBeth laughed. “Thank you. When a daft drunkard like you can recognize my womanhood, then I am getting there.”
He whined, “Come on, Sheriff Grissom. You’re keeping me chained up and with nothing else to do but drink. You gotta get me another bottle.”
Grace said, “I don’t ‘gotta’ do anything. You eat the stew and I’ll go across the street and get you a bottle. Then you’ll tell me where else Trance, Abe and Zeke Braunawall might go if they leave home.”
Taradittles grabbed the bowl of stew. He shoved it down his gullet without even chewing. Grace turned away. She had seen pigs eat with more manners. Gravy dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt, without his making any effort to wipe it clean.
“Done,” he said. “Where’s my bottle?”
Grace glanced outside. The evening had brought more rain. It wasn’t so much drizzling as spitting. Large, fat drops of water fell from the sky, but they were spread out enough to tempt a skinny person into trying to run between them.
LillieBeth said, “The tavern is filling up again, but I have not seen wool nor whiskers of Trance or Abe. Still, I say let Taradittles stay sober for a while. The change might do him good.”
Grace said, “At least when he’s drunk, he keeps his mouth shut and we don’t have to listen to his lies.”
Taradittles said, “That’s right. I can be real quiet. Say, did I tell you about the-”
“Shut up,” Grace and LillieBeth said.
Grace grabbed her poncho-style rain gear and pulled it on. She slid the Peacemaker from her pocket and checked the chambers. There were still five shells loaded. There had been five shells every time she looked, but she was working on making it a habit to check her weapon at every opportunity.
She walked across to the tavern. From just outside it was not as loud as it had been yesterday afternoon, but the dark night was coming on quick and the place was filling up. She could not think of any logical reason the place would be louder on a Tuesday afternoon than it would be on a Wednesday evening. She stepped inside the door and closed it behind her. The noise barely took a dip in volume this time. It was not as loud so there was less noise to stop, but she assumed it was because she was now a known person. She had seen and been seen. Many times in a small community, that is all it took to be accepted. Many times it was not. People from Missouri were very much like their state motto ‘Show Me’. They were stubborn as their mules and often times just as thick headed. But, once you showed them, they settled down and became as nice and accepting as everyone else… unless you were different than them. Having been born and raised in the Ozarks, Grace was no different from many of the people in this building, except she still had all of her fingers and teeth. She was sure the majority of people in the tavern were missing more than one of each.
Grace was not planning to stay long, so she left her poncho on. Her sheriff’s badge was still deep in one of her dress pockets. She walked up to the bar, sliding into a clear spot.
A fat woman with no upper teeth was tending the bar today. The woman’s hair stood out in a frizzy array, with thin bald patches on top. The space between the bar and the back wall was so close the woman had to waddle sideways to move back and forth, as her hips were much wider than her wobbly belly. The space was so limited she could not move any other way.
“What’ll it be?” The woman asked.
Grace said, “I got a bottle of local product yesterday. Cheap, but it did the trick. I need a couple more bottles.” She pulled the bottle Taradittles had emptied from a pocket and put it on the bar.
She put some money next to the empty bottle. She got a small jolt of enjoyment from paying. Her father had paid for everything for all of her young life. Once married to Clayton, he began to pay for her. Her husband had always ordered food and drink for her, he spoke to servers for her, and he carried all of the money. He had never been rude or obnoxious about it, always asking her preference before ordering, but he always stood between her and any stranger, even waiters and the like.
She had not thought about it before, but she liked Clayton taking care of her. She also liked the ability to speak for herself and order whatever she wanted. He father had always given her what food he thought would be good for her. Clayton always asked what would make her happy, but he placed the orders.
Clayton had been her other half. He was the man who filled her life. He was gone and now it was up to her to manage those gaps in her life. There was no man to tell her when to go, how to go, and what to do once she got there. The freedom felt more intoxicating than any liquor from a bottle. She could not underestimate the feeling she got from controlling her own life. It was just like the feeling she had when Mayor Cummings gave her a bank account in her own name. He also gave her a real job. It was a man’s job, but it was hers to keep or lose.
The bartender put two unlabeled and mismatched bottles on the table. The woman did not release her grip on the moonshine. “Jethro tell you this stuff’ll strip skin off a skunk? Personally, I don’t think it’s fit for womankind.”
Grace nodded. “I’m not drinking it. I need something to take the rust off an old shovel and I need something to pour down a hole to kill a gopher that’s been making a mess of my garden.”
The woman laughed and released the bottles. “That’ll do it. You be careful around fire with those things. Old Scratch hisself couldn’t stand the heat if one of those bottles gets lit up.”
Grace slid one bottle into a pocket, but the other pocket was filled up with the Colt Peacemaker. She pulled the gun out and put it on the bar, sliding the bottle into the pocket. She patted around her body, but knew there was no place for two bottles of moonshine and a revolver.
The bartender glanced at the gun. “Nice piece. How’s she shoot?”
Grace said, “It was my husband’s gun. I’m not sure how it shoots; I haven’t had the occasion to use it yet.”
“Foolish,” the woman said. “You needs to practice a few times. Shells ain’t so expensive that you can’t afford to waste a few at a tree or some bushes. Heavy old wheel gun like that is liable to break your wrist if you aren’t expecting the kick.”
The woman leaned down behind the bar and pulled out a small pistol. “Now this is a ladies gun. It’s only .32 caliber, so it won’t put much of a dent in a big man, but it’ll stop most drunks in this place from getting too frisky with me.”
Grace wondered how drunk a man would have to be to get frisky with this particular bartender. Maybe Carrie Nation was right and alcohol was bad for most men’s self-control.
“You need to get a holster for that if you intend to carry it all the time. That pocket ain’t no good for a gun if you can’t get to it in a hurry.”
Grace said, “Why would I need it in a hurry?”
“Honey, Colonel Colt made those peashooters so we women could be equal with men. Now you might be able to protect yourself from an attacker, but a delicate thing like me needs protection. A man isn’t going to stop attacking you just to give you time to wrestle that thing from a pocket.”
“I believe I have my husband’s old holster somewhere around my place.”
“Well, if you come back around this way on Friday we got a fellow from here abouts who does good leather work. He’ll make you a good deal, you bet. ‘Til then, especially in this place, you just keep your Peacemaker in your hand or real close by.”
Grace accepted that bit of wisdom and kept the gun in her hand. “I may swing back this way by Friday. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here abouts b
efore I head back home.”
“Where’s home, Honey?”
Grace said, “Theodosia, on down river.” She nodded and turned to the door. She had almost reached the door when it flew open.
“Crank up the noise. I’m raring to roar,” Abe Braunawall shouted. He and another man bulled through the door, both men roaring loud nonsensical bellows.
His shout died as Grace shoved the muzzle of her Peacemaker in his face. She slowly cocked the hammer back with her thumb, but the muzzle never wavered. She smiled coldly. She was amazed at her luck. One of the very men she was looking for dropped right into her lap. Abe must be getting tired of women pointing guns at his face. LillieBeth had done so in Oasis and she was doing it now. The other man stood barely inside the door, frozen into holding it open. From the look on the man’s face, he didn’t know whether to sit, spit or shit.
Grace said, “Well, Mr. Abraham Braunawall, so very nice to see you again. Or should I call you Abe or Abraham? Never mind, I think polecat is as good a name as any.” She heard the silence as the room grew quiet and still. She also realized her back was to a roomful of strangers and Clayton was no longer alive to stand between her and them. She grabbed Abe by the shirt front and turned slowly, putting her back to the wall and Abe’s back to the room. Over Abe’s shoulder she could see half of the men in the room sliding weapons from holsters, waistbands and boot tops. The other half of the men and all of the women were ducking to the floor or down behind tables.
Grace shouted loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear, “Abe Braunawall, I am placing you under arrest!”
Abe laughed, “You’ve got no right to arrest me.”
His voice sounded like a brave laugh, but Grace could hear a worried edge to his voice. He should be worried, her finger twitched of its own accord, as if that part of her wanted revenge for his portion in Clayton’s murder. It was as if her finger was at war with the logical part of her brain. It was as if her heart was in control of her finger and her heart wanted him dead now. Fortunately for Abe, her heart was controlled by her mind. Her mind wanted him alive and under arrest. Her mind wanted him held for trial and duly punished by a judge and jury.
She tried to reach her sheriff’s badge, but it was too deep in the right pocket of her dress. It was buried beneath a bottle of moonshine and she could not reach it with her left hand. Her right hand was busy holding the Colt.
A rifle barrel slid between her and Abe. It slid easily under the man’s chin, jabbing hard enough to push his mouth shut and force his eyes to the ceiling. The room grew quiet enough for everyone to hear the quiet click as LillieBeth pulled the hammer back, locking it for quick fire.
Grace said, “Deputy Hazkit, thank you.”
LillieBeth said loudly, more for the benefit of the tavern’s patrons than for Grace, “Sheriff Grissom, show these folks your badge.” The young woman pulled back the edge of her rain gear, flashing her bright tin star to the room. “That should establish our bonafides.” She tapped the star on her chest with a free hand and dropped the rain gear back into place. She looked up at Abe, “These badges give us all the authority we need to arrest you.”
Grace moved the Colt to her left hand. With her right, she dug into her dress pocket and pulled out her own badge. She held it high to the room and then pinned it back onto her chest above her ample breast. Her right hand took the Peacemaker back, its muzzle now pointed in a general skyward direction.
“I am Grace Grissom.” She spoke loud and clear enough for everyone to plainly hear her. “I’m the sheriff of Oasis, Missouri.”
The bartender had her small revolver on the bar, but her hand was not touching it. The fat woman said, “You’re a long way from home, lady.”
Grace nodded. “I am. But I have no interest in stopping your business. That’s between you and the local law.”
A man shouted, “Abe Braunawall is one of our local boys. What makes you think you can just come across the river and take him?” Voices shouted agreement and a rumble of complaints started to swell around the room.
Grace said, “Justice knows no bounds.”
LillieBeth laughed. The cold chuckle cut through the crowd’s voices. The crowd noise died to a quiet hiss like a bucket of water tossed on a hot fire at the sound of her humorless laugh. “Take him? Sir, I would rather just put him down like the rabid skunk he is. He would not be the first man I shot.” She jabbed Abe in the chest with a stiff finger. “Who do you think was there when Dangle and Ike died? I made that look like an accident. I do not imagine it will look like an accident when this rifle goes off… unless it really does just goes off by accident.”
People started shouting again.
The bartender’s shout overrode the voices, “Everyone just stay calm. What’re you two taking Abe for?”
Grace said, “Murder.”
Abe laughed, but it was a hesitant laugh directed at the ceiling. “Ain’t a man in here let me be arrested for hanging a black man who put his hands on a white woman.”
There were growls of agreement from a few men in the crowd.
Grace said, “I’m arresting you for aiding Thomas and Daniel Braunawall in the murder of Sheriff Clayton Grissom.”
Abe laughed, in spite of Grace and LillieBeth’s guns “You ain’t never gonna catch Trance or my Pa. You may’ve me arrested now, but you won’t get me to the Galena courthouse for trial. My family’ll come for me. Pa’ll get me free. We’uns don’t care what you charge us with, you won’t hang a Braunawall.”
The room was silent. The lynching of a black man was a different matter than the murder of a white man, especially if the white man was a lawman. A number of men put their weapons away and sat back down. The bartender withdrew her hand farther away from her revolver. It was obvious the tale of Clayton’s murder had reached this far. It was too good a story not to be told and retold.
LillieBeth jabbed the barrel of the gun under Abe’s chin. “You did lynch Odie Washington, but he did not touch me. Any man who says he did is a liar. I touched Mr. Washington on his arm, nothing more. But we have no proof you are the coward who tortured him and hung him, except that you just said you did.”
Abe said, “You got no proof I shot Grissom either. I didn’t shoot him.”
Grace said, “We have witnesses who will testify you broke your cousins Trance and Dangle Braunawall out of custody. You put Clayton’s gun in Trance’s hand for him to murder Clayton. That makes you as guilty of murder as if you pulled the trigger yourself. You had Clayton Grissom’s gun on you when we arrested you in Oasis. And then you broke out of jail.”
The bartender looked around the room. “Abe doesn’t have enough family here to stop you.” She looked at the man who came in with Abe. “Boy, you better get home and tell Abe’s Pa that he been took.”
The man looked at Grace for permission to move.
Grace nodded. “You tell Trance and Zeke to hurry along. I’ll arrest them too. Trance killed Clayton Grissom and Zeke is no less guilty than Abe.” At her nod, he took off at a run, jumping on a wet horse and racing down the road.
LillieBeth shouted. Her anger evident as spittle flew with the words. “Trance is also wanted for rape. I can prove Dangle and he raped white women. Let me know if you want to protect any man who did that. I have more bullets in this rifle than the one with Abe’s name on it.”
Most of the rest of the men put their guns away and sat down, keeping their hands in the clear. It was evident rape and murder of white folks was not acceptable to their way of thinking.
The bartender said. “I don’t need killing in here. This place is on thin ice as it is. Kindly take your man and go.”
Grace looked through the open door and grabbed Abe again by the front of his shirt. She yanked him out into the rain. LillieBeth kept her rifle ready, but no one from the tavern moved toward the door.
The bartender’s voice followed them into the rain. “You’all don’t ever come back here.”
LillieBeth walked to a rail. Th
ere was a second horse standing next to where the young rider’s horse had been. She looked at Abe. “This one yours?” At his nod, she untied the reins and led the horse across the road to their shed.
Grace grabbed a set of manacles and chained Abe to his saddle. There was no doubt in her mind LillieBeth could shoot him out of the saddle if he tried to run away, but she did not want the girl to have to kill a man… or another man, as she still wasn’t sure what part LillieBeth played in the deaths of Dangle and Ike. She tied the horse reins to a rail.
Abe looked at Taradittles. “You lead ‘em to me?”
Taradittles shook his head. He rattled the chains on his own wrists and shrugged.
Grace looked at LillieBeth, “We best be getting a move on. We can get these two back to Oasis if we hurry.”
LillieBeth eased the hammer down on the lever action rifle, removed a cartridge from the chamber, and reset the safety. She set about saddling their horses. She did not rush, but she did not waste any motion.
Grace pulled a bottle from her pocket and held it up to Taradittles. “This is just as I promised. You get up in your saddle without a problem and I’ll give it to you.”
Taradittles looked at Abe. “But, you said you were going to let me go after you catched Abe. I don’t want to go back to Oasis. I won’t ever want to go back to Oasis.”
Abe said, “You did lead ‘em to me. Pa’ll skin you alive and roast you over an open fire, you-“
“Shut your cake hole,” Grace interrupted. “You can complain to your Pa on the gallows when they hang you side-by-side.”
LillieBeth said, “Mr. Braunawall, if I hear one more word from you between here and Forsythe I will just shoot you and leave you in a ditch. That is what you and Trance did to my father.”
Abe started to say something, but at the look on LillieBeth’s face he clamped his jaw shut.