A Season in Hell

by Easy Jackson

  She stepped out from behind the tree and gasped. Two lowdown ruffians had appeared, one holding on to Lucas and Rusty while the other had a chokehold on Gid’s neck with one arm, holding a gun to his head with the other. A petrified Badger had strapped himself to Gid’s leg, while Rusty held a gigantic catfish, both he and Lucas looking surprised at suddenly being manhandled.

  “Well, would you lookee here now,” one of the ruffians said when he saw her.

  Tennie reasoned fast. Hawkshaw would rise and come around from behind the tree. As soon as that thought popped into her head, Rusty dropped the fish and he and Lucas stomped on their assailant’s feet, escaping his grasp.

  “Hit the dirt!” Tennie yelled and fell facedown.

  Lucas and Rusty did the same, followed by Badger, still clutching Gid’s foot. Hawkshaw came from around the tree and fired two shots so fast, Tennie wasn’t sure which man he hit first. The one who had been grasping the boys got it in his chest. The one holding Gid received his between the eyes.

  Tennie rose as Gid shook his head. “Gosh dang it,” he said, popping his ear with his hand. “That flew by so close, I think it busted my eardrum. I can’t hear a thing out of this here ear.”

  “Who were they? Road agents?” Tennie gasped.

  “Yep, I reckon so,” Gid said, his hearing impairment not affecting his voluble tongue. “Come from out of nowhere.”

  “What are we going to do?” she cried. “Do we have to take them with us to Waco?”

  “Oh no, we’ll just chuck them in the river,” Gid said. “Ain’t no use in taking them to Waco and causing a stir.”

  “Can we see if they have any money on them first?” Lucas asked.

  “Lucas!” Tennie said, but no one paid her any heed.

  “Why sure, boy.” Gid leaned down and began to strip the bodies of their possessions with the precision speed of an expert.

  “What about their guns?” Rusty asked.

  Gid picked one up, eyeballed it, and tossed it aside. “Can’t keep that one. Got his initials carved on it. Last thing we want to do is ride into Waco carrying a dead man’s gun. Some of his kinfolks might recognize it.” He examined the other one. “This one will be all right. We can keep it.”

  Tennie turned to Hawkshaw and gave him a questioning stare, but he just shrugged his shoulders.

  “What about their horses, Mr. Gid?” Lucas asked.

  “Go fetch them and let’s have a look-see,” Gid said.

  “Shouldn’t we get out of here?” Tennie asked.

  Gid rose and saw the look on her face. “Don’t you worry none, Miss Tennie. We’ll slit their lungs, throw ’em in the river, and they’ll sink like cannonballs. Then we can take our time roasting this here nice catfish.”

  Tennie didn’t know whether to cry or throw up.

  Rusty and Lucas came back leading two nondescript horses. Gid ransacked their saddlebags, but finding nothing of importance, announced the saddles were trash and not worth keeping. “We’ll chuck them in the river, too. These here horses ain’t nothing but scrub, so no use losing any time even giving them a thought. We’ll turn ’em loose.”

  Tennie, feeling like a ghoul, turned away. She looked at Hawkshaw and shook her head in resignation. Despite being nauseous, she was still hungry. “Isn’t the wood going to be too wet to catch fire? I can’t stand raw fish.”

  “Miss Tennie,” Hawkshaw said. “You underestimate the skills of former soldiers, blue and gray. Help me gather some firewood.”

  Tennie thought it impressed Hawkshaw that Gid never acted like he even wanted to complain Hawkshaw had risked his life shooting someone so close to him. Gid grumbled about his ears ringing from the sound of the bullet exploding so close to his head, but his faith in Hawkshaw’s aim appeared unquestioning.

  Later on, as Tennie sat on her haunches eating delectably roasted fish, she thought how cheap life was on the frontier. But she couldn’t help that and said, “I sure hope we can make it into Waco without anything else happening to us.”

  “Oh, that weren’t nothing but a little tussle,” Gid said.

  Tennie thought it was more than a tussle, but she didn’t contradict him. “I look a sight. I’m going to be embarrassed riding into Waco looking like this. I know menfolk can take baths in barbershops, but will they let women bathe there too?”

  Hawkshaw shook his head. “We’ll have the hotel bring you up a tub and some hot water.”

  “I hope Mr. Lafayette remembered to have our bags taken to the hotel,” she said.

  “We can get two rooms side by side,” Gid said. “You can stay in one, and me and the boys, and Hawkshaw can stay in the other.”

  Tennie raised her eyes to look at Hawkshaw, but he continued to eat and made no protest about sharing a room. Gid would flop on any bed and have no problem sharing it with three squirming boys, but Tennie was willing to bet Hawkshaw would kick everyone off the bed and tell them to sleep in the corner. But he wasn’t talking about dumping them the minute they hit Waco.

  The first thing they saw as they neared Waco was its new suspension bridge. With tall turrets, it looked like an illustration out of a book of fairy tales. The boys had never seen one, and it fascinated them. To their left, hundreds of cattle grazed, waiting for tired drovers to herd them across the bridge and onto stock cars that would take them to Houston and beyond. There was a small fee to cross, and the robbers left behind with the fishes in the Brazos paid for that with some left over. As she crossed the bridge, looking down at the wide, muddy Brazos, Tennie felt a little light-headed.

  They were soon across, riding straight toward the town square. Hawkshaw and Gid declared they would see her settled in a hotel before taking the horses back to the livery. Every neck except Hawkshaw’s craned at the bustling crowds and the big buildings that looked like grand dukes on the prairie. Gid had ridden horseback to Texas, staying to the north and bypassing Waco, but Hawkshaw had taken the train. None of it was new to him, and being well traveled, Tennie doubted he was overly impressed the first time he saw it.

  Too embarrassed by her ragged appearance to stand around in the lobby for long, she stayed outside the rather impressive hotel while the men went in to see about rooms.

  When the men returned, they reported Lafayette had remembered to make reservations and have their bags brought over. A maid had been instructed to take a tub and hot water to Tennie’s room.

  “Was there a letter from Wash?” Tennie asked. “Any word at all?”

  Gid shook his head. She gave him a small smile and a nod, determined not to ruin anyone else’s fun by fretting over Wash.

  By supper, Tennie had cleaned and luxuriated in a sumptuous room she never would have dreamed of renting herself, but Lafayette had already made arrangements on what she should have and that the bill be sent to him. She had forced the boys to bathe and put on clean clothes—although Rusty still dressed like a cowboy and the two younger boys remained in overalls—the idea being they would buy fancier wedding clothes in Austin.

  Going downstairs, the four of them met Hawkshaw and Gid in the lobby. They went to the door of the hotel dining room and peeked in, finding it full of white tablecloths and sparkling crystal.

  Tennie looked at Hawkshaw and Gid. “Is there a café nearby?”

  Without a word, they turned and herded the boys outside.

  The café they followed Hawkshaw to was nicer than the one in Ring Bit, but the tablecloths were blue checkered homespun, not linen. He led them to a table on the side, where he could sit with his back to the wall, facing the windows and door. They hadn’t had anything but fish all day and fell hungrily on their food. Hawkshaw hardly spoke. Gid, being new to Texas, wasn’t as silent as most men when he dined; nevertheless, he was serious about eating.

  After supper, Gid wanted to have a beer in one of the saloons, and Hawkshaw said he wanted to check to make sure the stableman had followed his instructions about his horse. They left Tennie and the boys on the hotel veranda, where they could watch the
rest of Waco until nightfall.

  Gid and Hawkshaw had been gone about five minutes when Tennie caught sight of a square-faced man with a drooping gray mustache. Not a big man, he wore a nondescript gray hat, pants tucked into his boots, and a leather vest with a star pinned on the shoulder. He looked as if he was purposely heading their way, and Tennie held her breath, wondering if he was bringing news of Wash.

  He stopped on one of the veranda steps, placing one hand on the post. “Mrs. Granger? From Ring Bit?”

  Tennie remained seated but leaned forward. “Yes, sir?” she asked, aware the boys were nearby and listening.

  “I’m the sheriff of McLennan County. I’m also a friend of the sheriff in Cat Ridge.”

  Cat Ridge? Tennie wondered. What did the sheriff in Cat Ridge have to do with Wash?

  “I’m here to warn you that I run a tight town,” the sheriff said.

  Tennie forbore replying that Waco had a reputation of everything except being a tight town.

  He continued. “We license all our saloons and the houses on Second Street.”

  Tennie knew she looked confused. Why would she care if he licensed houses on Second Street? And why not houses on all the streets? Nothing he said was making sense.

  “I don’t want no trouble in this town. And you’ve caused enough already. I’ve heard about those stepsons of yours, and if they so much as look cross-eyed at a stray cat in this here town, I’m running them and you out.”

  That she understood.

  The sheriff looked at her. “What’s the matter with you? Are you deaf?”

  Tennie sighed. “No, just tired. They’ll behave.”

  He didn’t know what to make of her or how to take her. He finally threw her a cross look and stalked away.

  Tennie looked at her stepsons. “No trouble.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they agreed.

  CHAPTER 13

  The next day, Tennie looked in the stores, shopping for a new dress. Along the way, she counted ten law offices on the square, many of them in partnerships. Ring Bit didn’t have any attorneys, and Cat Ridge only had one. The boys found the ice cream parlor, and she stopped to eat ice cream with them, laughing at them for licking their chins to catch every drop.

  Later, dissatisfied with the quality of dresses she found, she decided to buy the fabric and make her own. It would give her something to do while she waited in Waco. She picked another pretty pink calico. The petticoats in Waco were of a much finer make, however, and she was able to purchase those.

  Once at the hotel, she rang the bell in the lobby for the clerk. He appeared, emerging from a room behind the desk, a slender nervous man with his hair parted down the middle and a thin mustache across the upper lip of his beleaguered face. She asked about sending the fabric out to be washed and pressed so it could be shrunk before she cut it, but he gave her a frazzled look and proclaimed he was shorthanded.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Granger,” he said. “You can wait a few days, or if you’d rather, you can take it to the washerwomen who live in shanties down by the river. They’ll do it for you.”

  He gave her the names of a couple of women to ask for. “You’ll be safe heading in that direction during the daytime, but please avoid going south.”

  She nodded and, after thanking him, asked the boys if they wanted to walk with her.

  “We’ll go part of the way,” Rusty said. “But can we stop at the livery and wait for you there?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Tennie agreed.

  They walked together, and leaving them at the livery stable, Tennie continued on to the river. As she neared, she saw row after row of crude hovels, so ill-built she couldn’t understand how they could manage to stay standing in a strong breeze. Dirty and half-dressed children ran in the muddy streets that were little more than trails like dogs and coyotes made. And the dogs she saw looked like mangy skeletons. Women went about their business, leaving the few men there sitting in doorways. They were sickly looking, almost all amputees.

  She stopped some children and inquired about the women the hotel clerk had told her about. They led her to a shanty that looked like all the others, where a bent woman was standing over a fire, stirring clothes with a stick.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Tennie began, explaining that the hotel clerk said she might be able to wash and iron a bolt of cloth for her.

  The woman agreed, sounding as if she had just come down from a mountain deep in the Appalachians. As Tennie listened attentively, she looked carefully at the woman. She saw that her hands were knobby, and she was bent because she couldn’t stand up straight. Her long arms hung by her stunted torso, her large, wide mouth downturned and sad. With a shock, Tennie realized the woman was probably only a few years older than she was.

  She was telling Tennie she would deliver the fabric to the hotel before nightfall. The hotel clerk would pay her and charge it to Tennie’s bill.

  Hesitantly, Tennie reached into her pocket for some coins. “I want you to do a special job on it. So, I’m tipping you extra now.” She thrust the coins into the surprised woman’s hands, leaving the fabric with her before she could mutter much more than “Thankee, ma’am.”

  Tennie left the shantytown as quickly as she could without attracting undue attention. Almost unable to breathe, she walked, looking straight forward. As much as she hated being the town marshal of Ring Bit, as much as she hated the cursing and violence of the prisoners, the messes they left for her to clean up, her life was nowhere near as hard as that of the washerwomen.

  She realized what lay south of town, what Second Street was, and she thought of the women there. Would she have the courage to turn herself into a drudge rather than live the softer life of a prostitute? She thought of the abuse heaped on them by others and by themselves. Nothing was easy.

  All she could do was follow her own way, to walk the path she thought was right.

  * * *

  The fabric was delivered to the hotel as promised, and with it, Tennie spent the next few days cutting and sewing. Many times, she sat in one of the big rockers on the hotel veranda, stitching in better light and talking to whoever happened by. Hawkshaw, trying to stay off his leg, often sat in a chair away from hers and never interacted with anyone. Gid made the rounds in Waco, visiting the liveries, the stores, the banks, and the saloons. He knew every doctor, lawyer, gambler, and blacksmith in town. When he wasn’t out gossiping, he was talking to Tennie or entertaining the boys with fantastic stories of his experiences, many of which Tennie wondered if he had made up. But then again, once they were no longer in Waco, Gid’s story of Hawkshaw shooting a man next to him between the eyes would become part of his repertoire.

  Rusty and Lucas stayed busy making friends with the Waco boys, earning extra money cleaning out stables and running errands for shopkeepers and businessmen. Badger divided his time between following them as much as they would let him, hanging around the hotel with Tennie, and occasionally going with Gid on his rounds.

  Tennie finished her dress and sent it off to be pressed. Afterward, she found her favorite rocker on the veranda and sat down to look out over the square. Hawkshaw joined her, sitting several feet away as was his custom. They caught sight of Gid, shambling toward them with his head down.

  “I wonder what’s wrong with him?” Tennie said.

  “The beer wagon must have met with an accident,” Hawkshaw said.

  Tennie turned and shot him a look. “He hardly drinks at all.”

  Gid removed his hat when he reached the veranda. He stood in front of Tennie, fiddling with the brim.

  “Mr. Gid,” Tennie said. “What is it?”

  “I been over yonder talking to some Texas Rangers. Near as they can figure, when Wash and his men got close to the senator’s farm, somebody come out to meet them. Instead of saying it had all been a hoax, they said it had been taken care of.”

  Tennie tried to digest what that meant. Hawkshaw, seeing her confusion, told her. “It means he didn’t have a clue it h
ad been a setup.”

  Tennie threw him a grateful glance then turned back. “What else, Mr. Gid?”

  “Well”—Gid looked down and shifted his weight from one foot to the other—“he got sent down to this here Nueces Strip where there’s bad trouble going on.”

  “Nueces Strip?” Tennie asked.

  “It’s a strip of land between Mexico and the Nueces River. They’s always having problems down yonder. Bandits, raiding Indians, all kinds of horse thieves and outlaws. It’s a rough place, sure ’nuff,” Gid said.

  “He’s gone to this Nueces Strip?” Tennie said. “And he didn’t send any letters?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am,” Gid assured her. “He done sent a whole passel of letters, but the mail bag got robbed. I reckon he don’t know nothing about what happened to you, Miss Tennie, and he thinks you done been getting all his letters.”

  Tennie put her head down and rubbed her forehead. Remembering her manners, she thanked Gid for relaying the information. She knew he had pumped the rangers for every scrap of information he could get out of them.

  “They was going to come over here and tell you they self, but I said I’d pass the word along to you,” Gid explained. “They said there ain’t no use in you sending him no letters down yonder. He ain’t going to get them nohow.”

  Tennie tried hard to keep from crying. “Thank you, Mr. Gid.” She looked over the square, feeling so forlorn she didn’t know what to do. She saw the boys running toward them.

  Rusty had something in his hand, and after a span of a few seconds, she realized it was a telegram.

  “Oh, no, more bad news,” she said with a gasp, and Gid turned to see what she was talking about.

  The boys reached the veranda, but the telegram was for Gid, not Tennie.

  Gid took the telegram and looked at it, holding it far away from his eyes, frowning at it. “I can’t make head nor tails out of this.” He thrust the telegram back in Rusty’s hands. “Here, you read it.”

  Rusty cleared his throat. “MA DEAD STOP BROTHERS HIRED SHYSTER LAWYER STOP” He looked up. “It says it is from Nab Coltrane.”