by Alan Black
Grace said, “We probably don’t have an hour before Abe’s drinking buddy can get to the Braunawalls, get help and get back. This rain will slow them down some, but it’ll slow us down as well. We need to hurry on or we’re going to be in their hands.”
WEDNESDAY - NIGHT
Grace heard the steam whistle blast though the midnight air. It was cold and wet as any dark night had ever been in the White River Valley. It had been a week of rain and no matter how good her poncho, she was soaked to the skin. LillieBeth, riding behind their prisoners, could not be any drier.
Abe and Taradittles were drunk on a bottle of moonshine. They were wetter than either of the women since neither man wore rain gear, but they were beyond caring. Taradittles had passed out again, slumping in his saddle. Abe was little better.
Grace urged their horses forward at a quicker pace, tugging on the rope she used to lead the prisoner’s horses. They would be trapped on this side of the river if the dam closed to let more water out of the lake. The Braunawall’s could not be far behind them.
She reached the dam just as a man was putting up a barricade to block the road. The whistle blasted its final warming. Grace led her horse around the man and onto the bridge.
“Hey there!” he shouted. “You’ve got to wait.”
Grace flipped the poncho aside. Her badge glinted in the pale light of the man’s lantern. “We’re on official law business. We’ll pass and then you shut this road down for the rest of the night.”
“We can’t shut it down all night,” the man protested. “We can only shut the road down while the water is flowing.”
LillieBeth rode up beside the man. She leaned down and spoke with authority, “Then let the water out slower.”
The man waved his lantern at the two prisoners as they rode past. “What did they do?”
Grace continued to ride across the dam, leading the two men. She could see and hear the young woman clearly through the curtain of rain and over the patter of drops splashing in the lake.
LillieBeth nodded sleepily at the dam worker, but her voice was clear and loud. “We arrested them for murder. One of them shot the sheriff of Oasis and the other one helped him kill the owner of the stables.” She left out the part about the stable owner being a black man. “And these men have family and friends who object to our taking them for trial. So, I would appreciate it if you close this road as soon as we are across.”
The man nodded, “I heard about someone shooting the sheriff up there. That’s bad business. You ride on, young lady. Me, Gus and Bud will run out the water here as slow as we can. No one except you’all are out for a ride in the rain, no how. Well, and thems you say is acoming.”
Grace crossed the dam with a sigh of relief and rode the short way into town. Her prisoners and LillieBeth followed along. It had been a long day and the night before them looked to be even longer. She would like to have found a place to lie up for the night. She wanted to borrow the local marshal’s jail for the night for her prisoners and get a room at a hotel for her and LillieBeth.
She knew the local hotel had clean rooms and fresh sheets. The bathroom down the hallway had solid locks on the door and they would have plenty of hot water for a bath. It had a dining room on the first floor that served a breakfast rivaling any she had ever eaten and you could get breakfast at anytime of the day or night. But, she was sure she did not have time to indulge in such luxuries.
She wondered if the Forsythe marshal and his deputies would help them stand off the Braunawalls. She was sure they would, but all the Braunawalls had to do was to wait outside of town for them. They could not stay in Forsythe forever. Their only hope was to stay ahead of the Braunawalls.
A man stood in the middle of the town road waving a lantern.
Grace pulled Jezebel to a halt.
The man said, “The marshal said to keep an eye out for you.”
Grace said, “You’re his deputy?”
The man said, “There are four deputies. Marshal said you went after some of the Braunawalls. He wanted to know when you passed back through, said he didn’t want to have to go to the Braunawalls to come after you.”
Grace nodded in Abe’s direction. “We arrested one of the three men we were after. Trance and Zeke Braunawall are still wanted to murder in Stone County.”
The deputy smiled, “That is Stone County business. I’m not sure I’d go after the Braunawalls even for Taney County business.” He looked at Taradittles. “The other feller?”
Grace said, “He’s being held as a witness to murder and for stealing from a corpse. He...” Her voice faded away, she was not sure why she was still holding Taradittles any longer. It would make sense to turn him loose, except that he would be sure to run straight to the Braunawalls, telling them everything he knew.
LillieBeth said, “There are friends of a murdered man who want revenge on this fellow. We are holding him to keep him from getting killed.”
The deputy said, “Sort of protective custody? Sounds like a good idea to me.” He glanced down the road to the dam. “How far behind you do you think the Braunawalls are?”
Grace shrugged. The movement was barely visible under the rain soaked poncho. “We got across the dam in time, just before they shut it down. I don’t know how long that will slow them up. The fellow said he’d try to run the water slower, but I don’t know for how long.”
The deputy said, “You ride on, the marshal doesn’t want your problems coming to a head in town. I can’t say as I blame him, but I can’t say as I agree with him. So, I’ll mosey on down to the dam. I’ll see how long Gus can keep the road closed.”
Grace hoped and prayed they could keep the road closed long enough to keep her and LillieBeth ahead of what was coming.
THURSDAY - EVENING
Grace rode Jezebel though the deep water, the horse struggling against the current. She glanced behind her. Taradittles’ horse was short and the man’s stirrups were almost dragging in the water.
She had forded streams and creeks that were not as deep as Main Street in Oasis, Missouri. The rain continued through the night and all through the day, it was a mixture of heavy drops and downpours. The White River had given up trying to stay within its banks. It flowed, spread, and swelled. Oasis looked more like a lake than Taneycomo. The buildings on the river side of Oasis stood above the floodwaters like a string of islands connected by a long walkway or a string of beads; the boardwalk built above the floodwaters. All of the businesses were sewn together by the thread of the sturdy walk except one. Samson’s Boarding House for Young Ladies stood by itself, downriver from the rest, like a small island caught deep in the river.
Even surrounded by floodwater lapping against the foundation, Samson’s was open for business. It did not look as if too many customers were braving the rushing water, but Samson’s man stood on the porch ready to greet any man willing to chance the water. There was a small table and two chairs on the porch, giving the man somewhere to sit, but he stood as if on guard.
He waved at Grace in the gathering darkness. He pointed at Abe, obviously recognizing the man and gave her a wave of congratulations. He tried to say something, but Grace could not hear him over the rushing floodwaters and a wave of rolling thunder.
She turned into the stable. It was set on higher ground than Main Street. She rode up hill until Jezebel was clear of the water. She sighed, ducking low to squeeze under the lintel, as the horse walked into the stable. They had been in the saddle for almost a full day. This was the first time they were out of the rain in all of that time.
Jezebel shivered as Grace slid to the dry stable floor. Her huge Belgian was strong, but it had been a test of strength for both of them. Abe’s horse was barely moving and Taradittles horse stumbled. She glanced at LillieBeth. The girl was almost asleep in the saddle, but Fletch snorted and stepped lively as if he were fresh from the field.
She glanced around. There were no horses in any of the stalls. The corrals were empty as it was about knee d
eep for even the tallest horse. She knew the Washingtons owned a dozen horses of various qualities, some for rent and some for sale.
Odie Washington’s oldest son stood in the middle of the stable floor, staring defiantly at Grace. She was surprised to see his eyes were a deep, clear brown. She wondered if Odie’s eyes had been that color, but the man had never raised his eyes to meet hers. The boy was unwilling to lower his gaze.
Grace did not blame him. Keeping his eyes lowered did not help Odie in the end. All it took to get him lynched was one innocent touch by a young girl; that and hundreds of years of unreasoning racial hatred.
She nodded at the boy, “Young Mr. Washington, please tend to our horses.”
The boy said, “The river is still rising, Mrs. Grissom. Mama took all of our horses up to a higher pasture, just in case. She said to tell other people that the stable is closed for now.”
Grace nodded, “We have ridden these horses hard. At least you can get some grain for them. Your mother is right to protect your livestock, but the river will have to rise another two feet to even get this floor wet.”
The boy nodded and ran to grab a bucket for some grain.
She led Jezebel into a stall. “Sorry, old girl, but I’m going to leave the saddle on you for now, just in case we have to get to higher ground in a hurry.”
Abe’s horse slid into the stall next to hers and Taradittles’ horse tried, but there was not enough room. She led the horse into the next stall. LillieBeth led Fletch into the one next to that.
Grace yanked Abe off his horse. She realized she should have unchained him first, as he yelped when his arms were jerked by the manacles. She must be more tired than she imagined. It was not in her nature to be deliberately cruel. She unlocked the manacles from the saddle and chained the man’s hands behind his back.
“LillieBeth,” she said. “You might as well go find a dry place to get some sleep.” She pointed to the loft above them. “Young Mr. Washington will keep an eye on our horses for a little bit.”
The boy dumped a large pile of grain in front of each horse, rushing from one to the next. He seemed energized and a lot less defiant with a task to do. Grace knew he had a reason to feel angry and defiant. It was always hard for a child to lose a parent. She remembered the loss of her own father, even though that loss was from a long illness and not unreasoning violence. Tempered with her feelings about Clayton’s murder, she could imagine the boy was supremely overwrought at the senseless and brutal loss of his father.
LillieBeth said, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to drag Abe down to the jail and lock him up.”
LillieBeth nodded her head in Taradittles’ direction. The man was still passed out in his saddle. “What about him?”
Grace said, “Let him sleep.” She unlocked Taradittles’ manacles and half led, half carried him to an empty stall. “He might as well stay here for now. Mayor Cummings is right. We don’t have anything to arrest him for. So, when he wakes up, he’s free to go.”
LillieBeth said, “What about murdering Odie?”
Grace shrugged. “What about that, Abe? Did your friend help you lynch Odie Washington?”
Abe snorted. His eyes were red from fatigue and bad moonshine. “He ain’t my friend, not if he led you to me. Did he help me take care of that uppity darkie? Yeah, it was his idea. He held him down.”
Grace sighed. She locked Taradittles’ manacles around a post, leaving the man to sleep off his latest bottle. “I’m not going to carry him anywhere and we don’t need him stinking up the jail.”
LillieBeth climbed the ladder into the loft. “You come get me if you need help. I only need a short nap and I will be as fresh as a daisy in the morning dew.”
Grace doubted a short nap would help any of them. They were all tired and wet. Only Fletch seemed to have enough energy for more. She grabbed Abe by the front of his shirt and dragged him to the front door of the stables.
Even with the buildings poking up through the floodwaters, she was not able to tell where the river stopped and the town started. She could see the dark muddy waters rushing past in the poor light coming from the porch lamps at Samson’s brothel. It had been a hard slog for the horses to navigate the floodwaters. She would not attempt to walk in the water if she could avoid it and she certainly would not try navigating upstream.
She yanked Abe back the other way, ignoring his complaints. He wasn’t really a small man, but he certainly looked small against her bulk. She could jerk him around a dozen ways; even with his hands free, he would not have been able to do anything about it. She led him to the back door and down behind the buildings.
The path behind the buildings was muddy with rain, but it was free from anything more than a few standing puddles. The path was crisscrossed with dozens of other trails. About half of the crossing paths led from the back of the Main Street buildings to the small one- or two-hole outhouses behind each place. The other half led to homes and storage buildings scattered about the hillside, most set well above the floodplain.
She and Clayton had talked about selling their place and moving into town. It had never been more than talk. It was not a long ride into town, about a half an hour or so. That was a small price to pay for not having to see your neighbor’s house from your front porch. Their eighty acres of land was their place to spend their elder years. Now it was Clayton’s final resting place, she would never sell it or leave it.
She still had to get to Galena to pay their land tax, but she also had a prisoner to get to the county sheriff to bind over for trial. She would rest for a while and leave for Galena before Zeke and Trance showed up to save Abe.
The back door to the sheriff’s office was locked. She dragged Abe between the buildings. The buildings did not share walls. The office and the building next door flanked a three-foot walkway. There was a similar walkway on the other side of the office.
The front door was unlocked. She yanked Abe forward into a jail cell, slamming the door and locking it behind him. She started to turn her back on him as he complained about both the manacles and being in jail at the same time.
Grace relented. “Turn your back and back up to the bars.” He complied with her command. She used her key and unlocked his manacles. She tossed them on the desk and sank into the office chair.
Abe was asleep before she could take a second breath.
There was a file on the desk. It had not been there when she was in the office locking Abe up the first time. She pulled out the papers and read the note. It said, ‘See me about these. Everyone will stick by their first statement against Thomas and Daniel Braunawall for the murder of Fletcher Marlowe Hoffman.’ It was signed by the fancy ‘C’ used by Mayor Cummings.
She sighed. Every witness against the Braunawalls except Odie Washington had retracted their earlier statements to Clayton. Now they were retracting their retractions. She understood the killing of her husband would have everyone reconsidering their second thoughts. She understood, but it would be a long time before she forgave them.
She looked through the witness statements. Mayor Cummings had been busy talking to everyone, getting new signatures, and writing up every conversation related to every crime connected to the Braunawalls. She even saw statements in the pile from the Carvers and Steve Buckner connecting Zeke, Ike and Abe to the murder of Clayton.
She found a clean sheet of paper and a pencil. Writing in her best long hand, she wrote out everything that had happened, including everything about Odie’s lynching. It was an insult to the people of this town for a lynching to stand without someone speaking against it. Cummings may be correct that no one would be punished for it, but she would record it and let history judge these men.
Grace was startled when a rock slammed against the window shutters. She shook her head, and looked down to see Clayton’s Colt Peacemaker already in her hand. She stared at the paper on the desk, the words halted in mid-sentence. Had she fallen asleep writing? How long had she been sitting here
?
“Hello in the jail,” a voice shouted.
Abe laughed from his jail cell. “Might as well turn me lose now. That’s my pa.”
Grace tipped the chair back. Without getting up, she stretched and pulled a double-barrel shotgun from a rack on the wall. The words ‘property of Oasis, Missouri’ was burned into the wooden stock. She pushed the lever, breaking the barrels open. It was empty, but a quick look in a drawer gave her a box of twelve gauge shells.
Another rock hit the shutters. “Hey!” the voice shouted. “You in the jail, turn my boy loose and no one needs to get hurt.”
Grace went to the door and opened it a crack. “I’ll empty both barrels of this shotgun into your boy first.”
The voice threw a string of curses her way. “The only way you got to get out of this alive is to let Abraham go home to his mama.”
Grace laughed, “You’re Zeke, right?” She could tell his voice was coming from the same hillside of the street as the sheriff’s office. He was upriver from her. She was sure he was not alone, but she could not see anyone in the dark with the rain still pouring down.
“I’m Ezekiel Braunawall. And that’s the last name you’ll hear before I put a bullet through your head. Woman or not, no one locks up my boys.”
Grace said, “Mr. Braunawall, you and your boys murdered my husband. You got one chance to get Abe out of here alive. You give yourself up and I won’t empty this shotgun into Abe.”
Zeke said, “I’d rather he die in there than have him hung.”
“You give yourself up and I’ll tell the judge you and Abe surrendered. You give me Trance and maybe the judge’ll go easy and give you nothing more than a little prison time.”
Grace heard another voice, “I ain’t going to give myself up, Uncle Zeke. She’s in there alone. She can’t shoot Bobby John, me and you with just one shotgun.” Trance was eastward, downstream of his uncle, toward the stable end of the street, but on the same side of the street as the sheriff’s office. The two men had her flanked. She did not know where McDonald was hiding.