“Now, damn you, you ignorant savage, get down to the bunkhouse like I told you, and send Fuzzy up here.” He drew the broom back for another blow, prompting her to hurry for the door.
She found the belabored cook in the barn, where he was busy forking hay down for the milk cow. It had been his lot to inherit the responsibility for all the chores around the ranch since there was no one left of the crew hired to do them. It was more than he could keep up with, but Beauchamp expected him to get them all done.
When Lena told him that Boss wanted to see him, he replied, “What for? I ain’t got time to go listen to his bellyachin’, if I’m gonna get everything done today.”
She didn’t answer. He didn’t expect her to.
She walked back in the kitchen door to find him sitting in the dining room, waiting for his breakfast. “He’s on his way,” she told him.
“Finish fixing my breakfast,” he said, somewhat calmer. “Bring me a cup of coffee first and be sure you fix it the way I like it.”
“Yes, sir,” she muttered, and went to do his bidding. She took the pot from the edge of the stove, poured it in his favorite cup, and dropped a heaping teaspoon of sugar in. She went out on the back porch, where a pan of milk was cooling, and dipped a spoonful of cream off the top. Then, for good measure, she worked up a mouthful of saliva and spat in the cup, stirred it up, and said to herself, And that’s the way I like it.
Answering the knock at the back door, she let Fuzzy in and directed him to the dining room. “You want a cup of coffee?”
“Why, yessum,” he replied, “that would be mighty fine.”
He was the only one of the men who worked for Beauchamp that Lena was civil to. He figured it was because he was only a cook, and not a hired gun. He was not to enjoy a cup of coffee, however, because Beauchamp overheard her offer.
“No, he doesn’t have time for a cup of coffee,” Beauchamp called out.
“No, sir,” Fuzzy echoed upon entering the dining room. “I ain’t got time for a cup of coffee.”
“When did Strong tell you he’d be back?” Beauchamp asked Fuzzy.
“He didn’t say exactly,” Fuzzy said, surprised that Boss asked, since Strong was more likely to have told him. “But I’m pretty sure he wasn’t expectin’ to be gone overnight. They didn’t take any grub with ’em. They was most likely figurin’ on bein’ back here for supper that night. I expect they mighta run into some trouble.” He stood there shifting from one foot to the other while Beauchamp remained silent, letting what he feared had happened sink in. After a few more moments, Fuzzy asked, “Is that all you wanted?”
“Yes, that’s all. You can go now and get back to work. By the way, I still see those two boards that need to be replaced on the side of the barn.”
“Yes, sir. I’m tryin’ to get to it just as fast as I can,” Fuzzy said as he walked through the kitchen, where Lena was cooking Beauchamp’s breakfast. She gestured to him with a shake of her head. He answered with a weak smile. He had always had compassion for the poor Ute woman and the abuse she suffered from Beauchamp.
“Don’t let these chores get ahead of you,” Boss called after him.
“Yes, sir,” Fuzzy replied dutifully.
After breakfast and his morning trip to the outhouse, Beauchamp donned his heavy coat for his ride into Silver City. It was plain as day that the last two of his hired guns had joined the rest of his crew in hell at the hand of Joel McAllister. He was going to have to find a legal way to get his hands on that property, and he was going to have to go to the law for protection. There was no reason to believe McAllister would hesitate to come after him, and with that in mind, he had started carrying a revolver all the time.
Always happy to see him ride off to town, Lena Three Toe stood in the kitchen door to watch him pass eventually out of sight. She was about to turn around to start cleaning up the breakfast dishes when she caught sight of Fuzzy on his horse, loaded with what appeared to be all his meager belongings. He turned the horse and rode off in the opposite direction from town, never looking back.
“Ha,” Lena snorted, hardly surprised. “It’s gonna be hell to pay when that ol’ son of a bitch gets back. I reckon he’s gonna want me to do all the chores now.”
• • •
All the way to town Beauchamp thought long and hard on the best way to handle the problem with McAllister since his planned massacre had backfired, leaving him defenseless against a determined executioner. He finally decided the best way to handle it was to get the sheriff to go after McAllister for murdering his men. Jim Crowder was simpleminded enough to do what Beauchamp told him to do. After all, he owned the man. He wouldn’t question the right or wrong of it.
He arrived at his office at Beauchamp No. 2 late that morning to be told by his foreman that the town council had called a meeting to discuss a problem with the sheriff. This news was not well received by the already troubled mine owner. He insisted upon being present at any such meeting the council called.
“Where are they meeting?” he asked.
“In the back of Thompson’s store was what they said when they came by here to let you know,” his foreman said.
Beauchamp didn’t wait. Out the door he went and strode determinedly down the street to Marvin Thompson’s general store, anxious to get there before they made some stupid decision that he would have to overturn. He stormed in the door, striding past Thompson’s wife without so much as a “good morning,” and through the stockroom to the back parlor, where an assembly of eight men sat around a long table.
“Well, good morning, Mr. Beauchamp,” Jonah Newberry greeted him from the head of the table. “We sent Clyde Parsons by your office to notify you about the meeting, but you hadn’t got in yet.”
“What’s going on?” Beauchamp demanded.
Marvin Thompson answered him. “We decided to call an emergency meeting after we had some trouble here in town last night and our sheriff refused to handle it.”
“What kind of trouble?” Beauchamp asked, already opposed to whatever the council had voted on. “I find Sheriff Crowder to be a capable man.”
“If you had been in town last night, you might understand why we’ve asked Jim to step down as sheriff,” Jonah Newberry said. “A couple of miners at the Miner’s Rest got to drinking too heavily and got in a fight with Jake Tully. It spilled out into the street, and turned into a gunfight, and pretty soon they stopped fighting each other and started shooting up the town. Charley Owens ran to get Sheriff Crowder, but he locked himself up in his office and refused to come out. He said it wasn’t his job to get between two crazy drunk men with guns. Well, the whole town was hiding anywhere they could to keep from getting shot. So you see why we decided we needed a sheriff who would enforce the law.”
This was not good news to Beauchamp, having decided he would talk Crowder into shooting Joel McAllister on sight. “Wait a minute, gentlemen. Let’s not do something here that we might regret later on. We’d best give Jim Crowder another chance. I’ll talk to him and see if I can’t get to the bottom of this thing last night.”
“It’s a little too late for that,” Marvin Thompson said. “You see, we’ve already voted, and it was unanimous, so we fired him. Toby just got back a minute or two before you got here with the keys to the office. We voted him the new sheriff till we find a permanent one.”
Beauchamp’s brow deepened and his nostrils flared red with anger. “You can’t do that. You have to vote again, since I wasn’t here.”
“It was unanimous, Mr. Beauchamp,” Newberry said. “It wouldn’t do any good to vote again. That would just make it eight to one in favor of firing Crowder.”
“Hell, he didn’t do nothin’ but set in that office and drink coffee,” the blacksmith said. “It wasn’t just last night. We shoulda fired him a long time ago.”
Beauchamp was stymied and he knew it. He had to keep a respectab
le facade when dealing with the townspeople, even though he ached to pull the gun out of his inside coat pocket and clear the room. Knowing he was risking the destruction of all the plans he had made, he cautioned himself to calm down and think rationally.
“Well, gentlemen, I guess you have ample cause to make the decision, so I, of course, will vote with the council.”
“Then I guess that winds up all the business we had to discuss,” Marvin Thompson said, “so I reckon I’m open for a motion to adjourn the meeting.”
“Hold on, if you please, Mr. Thompson,” Beauchamp said. “I have a pressing problem of extreme importance.” Several of the eight who had already risen from their chairs sat back down. Beauchamp continued, now that he had everyone’s attention. “I’m afraid my life is in immediate danger. I know the town hasn’t been aware of what’s been going on out in the mountains right around us, but it seems that Boone McAllister’s brother is a hired killer. And he was brought here to murder me and everyone who works for me.”
His opening remarks brought grunts of surprise from the men at the table. “My Lord, Mr. Beauchamp!” Toby Bryan exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell Jim Crowder about it?”
“I did,” Beauchamp lied. “I told him after three of my men were shot down by Joel McAllister, but Crowder said he had no jurisdiction outside Silver City, so I’ve been left on my own to deal with this murderer. And, gentlemen, I’m sorry to report that I haven’t been successful in dealing with the problem, because he has killed almost all of my people. I have reason to believe the mad dog has even assassinated his own brother.” He paused to let that take effect, and was encouraged by their expressions of horror. “We were led to believe it was an Indian raid that killed those people up on that mountain, but there were no witnesses to attest to that. Nobody questioned the fact that Joel McAllister and his Indian friend were the only survivors after that raid. Now he has sent word that he’s coming after me and I have to fear for my life every time I ride back and forth between town and my ranch. I fear that he will be waiting for me when I return home tonight.”
The room was gripped by complete silence, everyone stunned by the brazenness of the charges. Finally Toby Bryan spoke. “I talked to Joel McAllister when he first came to town. He seemed like a right nice fellow. He sure fooled me.”
“Remember what Jake Tully said about him?” Marvin Thompson said. “Jake said he handled himself like he knew what he was doing when he laid that fellow out on the saloon floor. Jake said he was afraid he was gonna start shooting.”
“That’s right,” Beauchamp said, confident that they were all buying into what he was selling. “That man he attacked worked for me, and, gentlemen, that man is now dead, shot down in cold blood by Joel McAllister.”
He was gratified by the gasps and concerned reactions that he saw, and realized that he should have taken this approach to solve his problem before.
Toby Bryan stood up and looked around the table to ensure eye contact with every man there. “Well, you gentlemen have voted to give me the responsibility of enforcin’ the law in our town. And I want you to know, Mr. Beauchamp, that I take that responsibility seriously when it comes to protecting our most important citizens. So I reckon I’ll ride back home with you tonight in case McAllister is waitin’ for you. Then we’ll see who shoots who.”
It couldn’t have gone better as far as Beauchamp was concerned. This was even better than persuading Jim Crowder to do his dirty work. He had an idea that the blacksmith would stand firm where Crowder might have decided to run.
“Sheriff,” he addressed Toby, “I would be mighty obliged.” He looked around at the others and announced, “I think we’ve made a fine choice to replace Jim Crowder.”
“Just let me know when you’re ready to go home,” Toby told him. “I’ll be ready to ride.”
Chapter 16
Not sure when she might see Beauchamp return from town, Lena Three Toe went about the usual preparations for his supper. Her mind was occupied with thoughts of Fuzzy’s sudden departure that morning, an event that was not totally unexpected by her. She wondered why he had stayed on as long as he had. Maybe this distraction was the reason she did not know she was not alone when she turned to suddenly find him standing in the kitchen doorway, holding a rifle casually in one hand. Startled, she dropped a pan of potatoes she was preparing to peel.
“You’re him!” she gasped, and instinctively backed away.
“Where’s Beauchamp?” Joel asked.
“He’s gone to town,” she replied fearfully, and continued to back away until she was stopped by the kitchen table.
He had already assumed as much, since there had appeared to be no one on the place at all when he rode in. Having had no idea if Beauchamp had more men, he had come in from the hill behind the barn. Cautiously checking the barn, then the bunkhouse, the smokehouse, even the outhouse before deciding the place was deserted, he then came to the house.
“You’ve got no need to be afraid of me, ma’am. My quarrel is with your boss. I’ve got no quarrel with you.”
Something in his eyes and the tone of his voice, soft- spoken but deadly, convinced her that he was telling her the truth, and her first reaction to that was to wish that Beauchamp was home to face him.
“I reckon you came to settle with him for killing your family,” she finally said.
“I reckon,” he answered, surprised that she spoke about it so calmly. “You expect him for supper?”
“He’ll be here,” she said.
Noticing a bruise beside her eye that was just beginning to yellow, he asked, “He do that?” He pointed to her eye.
“Yes,” she answered, “when he was in one of his better moods.”
“Don’t suppose you know when he’ll be coming?”
“No, can’t say,” she replied.
He thought it over for a few moments before deciding. “I reckon it’d be best if I ride on out toward town,” he told her, “so’s not to have any shootin’ goin’ on around the house here.” There was a thought for her safety, but he also figured that he preferred to confront the man out in the open. He turned to leave, then paused to say, “Sorry about your potatoes.”
“No trouble at all,” she said, and followed him to the door to watch him ride away. She stood there for a long time, watching until he became too small to see any longer, unable to explain the sense of satisfaction she felt. It had been like being in the presence of an angel of death. It was a feeling that made her heart beat faster with an elation she had not felt since she was a young girl, flush with the expectation that things were going to be better in her life.
• • •
He rode for a couple of miles along a well-worn trail to Silver City, contemplating the results of the action he was determined to take. The debt must be settled, even though it was going to cost him dearly because he was forced to resolve it in this fashion. For he was convinced that he would be a hunted man for the rest of his life, wanted for the murder of a respected businessman of the settlement. He would lose the land, and the future, that Boone had staked out for the two of them.
It has to be, he finally told himself. It does no good to regret. He tried to put such thoughts aside then and concentrate on the business at hand.
Coming to a ridge off to the side of the trail, he decided to stop, thinking that if he continued, he might wind up in town before he met Beauchamp. The ridge was thick with spruce trees along the base, so he figured it a good spot to wait for his target to show up. He tied the gray to the limb of a tree, pulled his rifle, and walked down near the edge of the trees, where he had a good view of the trail beyond. He sat down to wait.
He sat for almost two hours before someone appeared on the trail in the distance, but it was two riders instead of the lone rider he expected. Leaving the spot where he had waited, he backed up into the trees a little farther, so as not to be seen from the trail. In a
few minutes, the two riders came even with his vantage point, and he recognized one of them. It was the blacksmith; he had forgotten his name, but he remembered the face. The other man, with the heavy woolen coat with a fur collar, was Beauchamp. But was he? Joel hesitated, uncertain. He had never seen Ronald Beauchamp before, and he had to be certain. By all reasoning, it had to be Beauchamp, for they were obviously going to Blackjack Mountain. But what if they were the blacksmith and one of the other businessmen of Silver City? He knew he couldn’t risk killing the wrong man. To add to his indecision, he didn’t like the idea of calling a showdown with Beauchamp if the blacksmith was there to witness it, consequently destroying the slim chance that he might get away with the killing. Realizing there were too many reasons to wait until absolutely sure he was doing the right thing, he reluctantly eased the hammer down on the Henry and watched them pass.
He remained there until the two riders were out of sight before leading his horse out of the spruce trees and starting back toward Blackjack Mountain. Still intent upon finishing the task he had set for himself, he walked the gray leisurely along the trail back to the ranch, planning to watch the house to see if the blacksmith returned to town alone. He resigned himself to the fact that he would shoot Beauchamp at long range if that turned out to be his only opportunity. But he preferred to face the man so Beauchamp would know who shot him and why. With no notion what the night would bring, however, he could only wait to see.
• • •
With a feeling of disappointment, Lena looked out the window and saw the two men approaching. She walked to the front door when they pulled up at the rail in front of the house and Beauchamp dismounted. She didn’t recognize the rider still in the saddle, but she noticed the star pinned to his vest when his coat gaped open.
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