by Easy Jackson
“Aw, this place is fun,” Lucas repeated, but it lacked his earlier conviction.
The night before had them all thinking about moving on.
Lupe went down to the river to wash clothes, taking the children with her. When she was out of sight, Tennie walked back into the house. Hawkshaw was getting up.
“What are you doing?” Tennie asked.
“I want to sit outside. I’m sick of this house.”
Tennie followed him, not daring to offer to help. He found a bench next to the house under the arbor and sank down. Tennie sat down beside him, but not too close.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well . . . ?” she asked back. “Why did you bring us so far west?”
“Because I wanted to lure Lafayette here to kill him.”
CHAPTER 10
Tennie wondered why hadn’t she seen it coming. “Who hired you?”
“The brother of his ex-sister-in-law, Raiford Beauregard,” Hawkshaw said. “I’m sure you know the story. She walks around dressed in mourning, raising hell. She keeps moaning as long as Lafayette is alive, her life is ruined. Her brother thought if Lafayette was dead, she would get over it.”
“Why did you take the job?” Tennie asked, uncomprehending why anyone would want to be a hired killer.
“Look, besides having an affair with his own brother’s wife and killing him over it, Lafayette is a saloon owner and a razor-sharp gambler. He pimps out whores. There had been newspaper articles even in that part of the country about the young woman he seduced and infuriated into killing a famous singer.”
“She was a prostitute he picked up in New Orleans, and he hoped the singer could humiliate her into leaving,” Tennie said. “He didn’t realize she was so crazy she would kill the poor woman in a jealous fit.”
Hawkshaw shrugged. “I could see right away Lafayette is no fool,” he continued as if Lafayette’s morals didn’t matter anyway. “I couldn’t use the usual methods to rile him enough to get him to draw a gun on me. I knew the only thing I could use to upset him enough to try to kill me would be you. When I overheard the Miltons’ plan, I went along with it, waiting for the right time to rescue you.”
“And then what?” Tennie asked.
“Then, I would take my time getting you back to civilization, and we would be alone together long enough for there to be talk, and I would fuel that talk until I infuriated Lafayette into feeling like he had to kill me to protect your honor.”
Tennie sniffed. “In Ring Bit, there are always people ready to believe the worst about me. They don’t need you for that.”
Hawkshaw took a deep breath, looking so weary she felt sorry for him.
He shook his head. “Nothing went the way it was supposed to anyway. I didn’t plan on your stepsons arriving like the cavalry. And I thought with Inga dead, Bod and Ozzie would leave the countryside in a panic before they tried to follow us. I left them alive because I wanted to use them to scare you into flight. It surprised the hell out of me when they showed up.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Tennie asked. “I’m not going to let you kill Lafayette.”
“I don’t know why I’m telling you. Maybe because you sewed up my arm. Maybe because you took a bullet out of my leg. Maybe because you and your stepsons haven’t deserted me in this hellhole.”
Any other man would have thought he had landed in paradise, but not Hawkshaw. He touched the bandage on his leg, turning his hand over to stare at his palm. He looked over to her. “Do you have any idea, woman, what it would do to my reputation if I don’t kill Lafayette? If I just return the cash and say sorry?”
“What reputation?” Tennie asked. “You have no reputation, except as a shootist, and who wants a reputation like that?”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
“I know you have money, Mr. Hawkshaw,” Tennie said. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t have money in banks all across the whole United States, probably. Retire and be a rancher. Every man who comes to Texas wants to own a ranch.”
“I don’t know anything about cattle and don’t want to,” Hawkshaw said. “The only thing I know about is how to draw faster than the other hombre. And I don’t want to sit around Texas waiting for some young glory hunter to come looking to do me in.”
“And horses,” Tennie said, not to be deterred. “You can have a horse farm. Sell the glory hunters a horse they can brag about. ‘I bought this horse from Hawkshaw, the famous shootist,’ is what they will say.”
“It’s too late for that,” Hawkshaw said.
“It’s never too late.” She wanted to talk more, but Lupe was coming back. Tennie turned and asked one last question. “The senator’s daughter?”
“Never happened,” he said, looking toward Lupe. “Inga had a friend working for the senator who faked the telegram.” He got up and went back inside the house.
Tennie walked to the far side of the arbor, leaned against a post, and wondered where Wash Jones could be.
* * *
That night, the air was heavy with excitement, almost fear. Tennie did not know if the villagers were hoping for another fight, or if there was something else causing their anxiety. She took a blanket, planning to sleep underneath the arbor. Lupe’s knife attack had smacked of the same theatrics as her egg performance, but Tennie was taking no chances. If Hawkshaw didn’t like it, he could lump it.
But nothing happened during the night.
The next morning, Hawkshaw again walked outside and sat down on the bench under the arbor. Lupe banged things as loudly as she could in the house to show her displeasure, but neither Hawkshaw nor Tennie spoke.
The priest emerged from the church, his robes flowing as he walked with purpose in their direction. He stopped under the arbor and said a cheery, “Good morning.”
Tennie returned his greeting; Hawkshaw just looked at him. The priest stood at the door and spoke a few words to Lupe.
The children, sensing something might be about to happen, crowded underneath the arbor. Lupe exited the house, refusing to look at Hawkshaw or Tennie, pushing aside the children and striding to the communal kitchen, where she turned to stare at them. The father spoke to the children, and they scattered. All except the Granger boys, who refused to budge.
Father Francisco did not object. He took a short stool from the house and set it down in front of Hawkshaw and Tennie. “Mrs. Granger, do you remember on that first day when I said you and your party were an answer to our prayers?”
Tennie stirred. “I remember it now, but I had forgotten all about it.”
“Does this have anything to do with the fact there are no able-bodied men in this town?” Hawkshaw asked.
“You noticed that, did you, Señor Hawkshaw?” the priest said. “Yes, it has everything to do with that. If you will permit me to explain?”
Hawkshaw stared steadily, and Tennie nodded her head.
“These are a poor people, as you can see,” Father Francisco said. “But they are industrious. They have raised livestock and planted gardens. Over the course of time, bandits from the South have made yearly raids on their village. At first, they only took a few things, so it could be tolerated. But in the past few years, the raids have become increasingly violent as a new leader took over. This last time, the women were raped, the older children taken to be sold into slavery. They snatched some of the women to take with them, abusing them to the point they collapsed, and they were left for dead along the way. Lupe is one of the few who managed to make her way back. The men who fought back were killed or taken to be sold as slaves.”
Tennie immediately regretted all the harsh things she had been thinking of Lupe.
“Do they always come at the same time every year?” Hawkshaw asked. “Why don’t the people just leave?”
“Because they learned from previous years, not only would they be chased down, their homes and everything they have built up would be destroyed,” the father said. “They were planning on departing this year, even kn
owing they would probably be hunted down and killed. The leader of the banditos is cruel, and he does not care. They have been praying faithfully, my friends. When they heard your gunfire, they knew you had enough pistolas to fight the banditos, Señor Hawkshaw.”
Tennie glanced at Hawkshaw. He sat staring at the priest, and even though he did not move a muscle, she knew he was filled with a cold fury so intense it frightened her.
“And why did you allow Mrs. Granger and her children to stay here, knowing that?” he asked.
Even the calm priest seemed disconcerted by Hawkshaw’s hatred. He took a breath and continued. “Because, they would have somehow learned of her existence and possibly tracked her down anyway.”
“And when do you expect these banditos?” Hawkshaw said.
“Always on the last quarter moon during this time of year. Possibly tomorrow. I have received word they are near,” the priest said. “I did not tell you sooner for fear you would leave.”
“And you expect me to wage war on how many banditos? Twenty? Fifty? With just myself, a woman, three boys, and a few guns?”
The priest faced Hawkshaw’s wrath with courage. “If you do not, they will kill you and take your friends hostage. Mrs. Granger’s stepsons will be sold as slaves. I do not have to tell you what will happen to Mrs. Granger.”
Tennie felt sick. She swallowed and willed herself to remain calm. The boys were whispering among themselves.
Rusty walked forward. “Excuse me, Father, I must tell Mr. Hawkshaw something.” He went to Hawkshaw and whispered something into his ear.
Hawkshaw shot his head around and stared at him. Rusty nodded.
Hawkshaw looked back to Father Francisco. “Preacher, you just got saved from having a bullet hole put in your skull.”
A sudden dawning came over Tennie. “Did you bring those explosives with you in your tote sacks? Did you?” she yelled at Rusty.
He owned up. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You could have blown us all to kingdom come. You know that?” Tennie ranted.
“Shut up,” Hawkshaw said. “Now is not the time.”
The priest looked shocked. “Señor Hawkshaw, that is no way to talk to a woman.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Tennie said. “He was raised by an old mama grizzly.”
Hawkshaw ignored her. He sat breathing heavily. Tennie sensed he was fighting an inner battle—to stay or to leave.
“Do they always come through that little canyon?” he finally asked.
“Yes,” Father Francisco nodded.
Closing his eyes and exhaling, Hawkshaw gave in. “Have your people bring as much livestock and food back here as they can. Tell them we are going to blow up the bandits in that canyon. Warn them that we may cause a landslide that will seal us in here, so make sure they have plenty of food and water in case it takes us a while to dig our way out.”
“Of course,” Father Francisco said, rising. He bowed. “Thank you, señor. My people are not entirely helpless. The men are excellent with bows and arrows. But unfortunately, their arrows are not able to stand up against so many revolvers and rifles.”
Hawkshaw nodded but did not waste time on niceties. “Keep Lupe and the others away from here while we discuss the best way to handle the explosives. Miss Tennie, go with the priest.”
“No,” Tennie said. “You are not shutting me out.”
“You better let her stay, Mr. Hawkshaw,” Lucas said. “Sometimes she has some real good ideas.”
“I don’t have any ideas,” Tennie said. “I only know I’m not going to let you shut me out.”
“You just don’t want to be left alone with Lupe.” Hawkshaw glanced at the priest. “Vamoose. I’ll send for you when and if I have any questions.”
After Father Francisco left, Hawkshaw looked at Tennie. “Do you know how to fire a gun?”
“Just barely. Rusty and Lucas were born with rifles in their hands. In target shooting, they could hold their own with you.” She paused and continued. “I realize they have to put the explosives together, but my job is to protect them. You can detonate the bombs, and I will help you.”
Hawkshaw stared at her. “You and me against an army of cutthroats?”
Rusty stepped forward. “You won’t be alone. Lucas and I aren’t going to become slaves without a fight.”
Hawkshaw stood up and began to pace, dragging his leg, muttering curse words under his breath. He sat down and covered his forehead. After a few minutes, he looked up.
“We’ll have to get a volunteer to detonate the bombs, one of the older men. I’ll be high up in the center of the canyon, picking off bandits that live through the explosion.”
He looked at Rusty. “You and your brother can be toward the canyon head to shoot whoever tries to leave. That will be the safest place because they’ll have their backs to you, trying to escape. The village men can be ready deeper in the canyon with bows and arrows to shoot whoever gets past the explosions and tries to enter the village.”
He moved his eyes to Badger. “You and your friends will have to take care of our horses. They aren’t going to like the noise. Think you can do that?”
Badger nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And me?” Tennie asked.
Hawkshaw took a deep breath. “Can you stay with me and reload my guns?”
Tennie nodded. “I can do that.”
They began to discuss what to use to make the most destructive bombs they could.
Tennie, thinking about the men and the horses they would be destroying, couldn’t stand to listen. She got up and walked to the other side of the arbor. She railed against circumstances that made children have to behave like men, and yet, when Rusty declared he would not be made a slave without a fight, she could think of no other way out. If they let the men into the village, separated them from their horses, somehow managed to get them into a building away from everyone else . . .
But that was hopeless, too. They would ride into the village and begin plundering immediately, grabbing women to assault, shooting at whoever they felt like.
“Rusty!” Lucas exclaimed. “We can build a land torpedo. Don’t you remember Mr. Gid telling us about that?”
“He told you how to build one of those?” Hawkshaw asked.
Lucas nodded. “Yes, sir. He said he did it twice before they made him stop. They said it was too inhuman.”
“Inhumane,” Rusty corrected.
“Inhuman or inhumane, it would be the best way for us with the amount of powder we have,” Hawkshaw muttered, thinking out loud. “You sure you remember what he told you?”
“Yes, sir, we can do it,” Rusty and Lucas both exclaimed.
“What is it?” Tennie asked.
“We’d build a trench down the canyon floor, Miss Tennie,” Rusty said. “Filling it with explosives, and gravel, and any bits of metal we can find. We’ll set up a tripwire, and when they ride over the tripwire, it will set off the explosives down the canyon.”
“We’ll be high up, hidden in the rocks of the canyon, when it goes off,” Lucas said.
Tennie looked at Hawkshaw. It was brutal warfare. “You better have guards posted to warn any innocent people who happen to come by not to go into that canyon then,” she told the boys.
They discussed it in detail before taking it to Father Francisco to explain to his people. As soon as they heard the plan, the village became alive with activity. Men, women, and children filed into the canyon to dig a long trench. Others went to a gravel bar near the creek to haul the gravel that would be used as projectiles. It would have to be spread and baked in the sun to be perfectly dry. Still others gathered pieces of broken glass and metal left over from the metal hoops surrounding the supply barrels the visiting priests had brought to them. It was harder to find the right size wire, but that too was eventually discovered.
The men used the shovels; the women got on their hands and knees and used whatever they could find to dig in the dirt, Tennie alongside them. The irony that her
savior might indirectly be a loquacious country bumpkin whose only skills were bouncing heads and blowing up bridges was not lost upon her. Tennie asked God a hundred times to forgive her for ever being mad at Giddings Coltrane about anything.
Hawkshaw, crippled and still not completely well, could only watch. Tennie would see his eyes scanning the rocks above them relentlessly, looking for hiding places. When remembering what Gid told them and putting it into practice proved harder than Rusty and Lucas had thought, Hawkshaw had to help.
“He knows more about explosives than he let on,” Lucas whispered to Tennie.
Tennie looked over the trench to where Hawkshaw stood in discussion with Rusty. “I’m not surprised. He plays everything close to his chest.”
Father Francisco translated instructions and helped to dig and spread gravel. Just before sundown, boys were posted at the entrance of the canyon, ready to sound the alarm or to warn off any lost travelers if need be. Hawkshaw sent Tennie, along with the villagers, back toward the village while he, Rusty, and Lucas strung the tripwire. The villagers, reluctant to leave, stood at a safe distance where they could still see. Father Francisco got down on his knees, to pray, and Tennie, with the other women, joined him. Tennie kept peeking, though, and when it came time to make the final connection, Hawkshaw sent Rusty and Lucas away, and he did it himself.
When he finished and walked toward them, a collective and silent “amen” was breathed. They trudged back to the village, exhausted and hopeful. Tennie walked alone, leaving Hawkshaw to his thoughts and the boys to their friends.
Father Francisco fell into step with her, speaking in a low, even tone while an owl began to hoot in the dusky night. “You think it is odd that a priest would encourage such warfare?”
“The thought did cross my mind,” she said.
“As a child, my sister and I were captured by the Comanche,” he explained. “I helped her to escape. For my treachery, I was castrated and left to bleed to death. A group of Spanish missionaries happened upon me and saved me. They were educated men who had renounced lives of wealth and ease to work and live in poverty to help others.”