Revenge Requires Two Graves

by George Emery Townsend

  Chapter 33

  Rendezvous

  Larry, John and Ray walked slowly to the dinner fires and sat down on a fallen tree trunk. After finishing a plate of food that filled their stomachs and a cup of hot coffee that removed the night chill, they headed off for their bedrolls. Ray was exhausted and couldn’t help but think about how he was going to really enjoy the feeling of slipping into his blankets tonight. Throwing back the top blanket he found a note resting between the folds. Ray turned it towards the light of the dinner fires so he could to read it.

  “Meet me at the large oak tree a hundred paces north of the camp, along the stream at midnight.” It was signed, “Morgan”.

  Ray checked his pocket watch and found he was already late for the rendezvous. Suddenly he no longer felt tired. He threw the blankets back over the ground cover, making them into a large lump so curious eyes would think he was fast asleep in his bedroll. He didn’t know what made him think to do this except he wanted to protect Morgan’s name if someone was looking for him.

  He raced off to the stream and turned north with the light of the full moon making the going much easier. But in his haste he still managed to stub his toe on roots sticking up through the sand along the shore. As he continued on, one of the roots caught his foot, sending him sprawling out onto a small patch of sand. He spit the sand from his mouth with the help of a couple well-chosen profanities, and whisked the sand out of his hair.

  Having only gone a few more paces he heard a small voice, “Ray, I’m over here.”

  He stood frozen with his heart beating so fast he thought it was going to push through his chest. What did she have in mind? Was she planning romance and if so how far would they take it, or how far should he take it? Would she be disappointed in him if he took the high road and called it an early evening, or did she want him to jump on her and tear her clothes from her body? How was he supposed to know, or was this just going to be a “let’s talk” kind of thing? Ray was so nervous he could hardly walk.

  Stepping from the shoreline, he walked the short distance to where he saw Morgan lying down. He thought, now that’s a good sign.

  She was up on the bank about three feet above the stream, on a soft bed of grass. She had laid out a blanket for them to keep their clothes clean: or so he thought that was what it was for. At this point he had no idea what he was doing. Ray stumbled up beside her form and stood dumbfounded. She was leaning back onto her left elbow, with her right leg bent upwards at the knee and her left leg extended. She was a vision with the soft light of the moon falling down onto her, wearing a thin white night gown. Ray found himself still staring at her when she finally broke his trance.

  “I’m so glad that you got my note, Ray.”

  “Me…. too,” was all he could mutter.

  Patting the ground next to her she smiled and said, “Here, Ray, come and sit next to me.”

  Finally Ray found his self-control again as lust over came fear and he lowered his weight down onto the blanket next to Morgan. He placed his fingertips gently against her cheek and pulled her face toward his. She did not resist his advance and their lips met in a long, passionate kiss.

  Morgan pulled back slightly only so she could gaze into his eyes. That was all it took. Ray was completely hog-tied. The hook had been set and she was reeling him in. Staring deep into her eyes he could think of only one thing to say, “Morgan, will you be my wife?”

  Three shots rang out from the camp, startling them both. Then two more shots rang out. Standing quickly, Ray reached down, to take Morgan’s hand. He helped her to her feet. They both started running in the direction of the gunfire when he remembered Morgan should not be seen running back into the camp from the bushes.

  “Morgan, you go to your wagon and stay there. I’ll come for you once I’m sure everything is all right.”

  Ray was running from Morgan when he heard her voice call out from behind him, "Ray, the answer is YES, of course, yes.”

  The rest of the way to the scene of the shooting he was running on air. When he reached the spot Ray found his bedroll with three smoldering holes in it and a small crowd of people all around. On the ground, not ten feet away lay the form of a lifeless body.

  “What happened?” Ray panted, being out of breath from the long run.

  “It appears that Morgan’s old beau decided he wasn’t all too happy with the way things turned out between you two. So he figured three pieces of lead would solve the problem. Your bedroll was all wadded up - he thought you were in it. Actually Larry and I thought you were in it, too,” said John, “We were headed for our bedrolls when we saw this here fella taking aim at your back, or what we thought was your back. We called out to him to stop, and when he fired off three quick shots, Larry pulled iron and put two pieces of lead into the back of the shooter’s head. He was dead before he hit the ground. Shit Ray, we thought he killed you. Thank the Maker you weren’t in your bedroll. By the way, where the hell did you go, I thought you said you were bone tired.”

  Just then Morgan came running up wearing the same thin white night gown, only now covered with a night jacket. She grabbed Ray’s arm and leaned into his side. John and Larry both had an odd look moving across their faces, realizing exactly where Ray had been.

  “Morgan, look away,” Ray called, “you shouldn’t be here. It’s Jack Smoot. I’m afraid he was shot when he tried to kill me in my bedroll.”

  “Is he?” Morgan saw the body and knew the answer. “Thank God you weren’t in your bedroll,” slipped Morgan.

  “How did you know he wasn’t there, Morgan?” asked Larry.

  “Well if he had been, wouldn’t he have been shot?” said Morgan as she turned away from Larry and the form on the ground.

  “Come on Morgan, I’ll walk you back to your wagon,” Ray said, putting his arm around her and guiding her away.

  “Poor Jack,” sighed Morgan, “I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for what he did.”

  “You don’t need to feel anything in that regard. Jack was a grown man and out here a man has to stand on his own two feet. That’s what Zeke taught me and it makes good sense. Jack acted on his own accord and he reaped what he sowed.”

  Arriving at her wagon he stopped her by holding her arm. “Morgan, tomorrow, I’d like to ask your Pa for your hand. Do you think that would be alright?”

  “Well, you can try, but he’s a stubborn man, Ray. He had his sights set on Jack because of his money. That’s all my Pa thinks I need to be happy.”

  “Well, as long as it’s okay with you for me to approach him, then tomorrow will be the day,” Ray smiled.

  “When and where do you want to marry me, Ray? You never said,” asked Morgan with a shy smile.

  “I’d marry you tonight right under that moon, but I think it would be better to make a real party out of it, don’t you? It would also be really nice if my Ma could be there,” said Ray.

  “Well we’re all traveling into Pueblo de Los Angeles, why not set a date when we get there. Then both families can come.”

  “That sounds perfect, Morgan, but can we still meet out by the big oak tree again?” Ray said with a widening grin.

  “We’ll have to just wait and see, Mr. Cooper.”

  Morgan freed her arm from Ray’s grip and started toward her wagon. Then she stopped and ran back to him, flinging herself into his arms.

  Ray didn’t know why but he was more nervous about going to ask her Pa for his daughter’s hand, then sneaking up on that Indian encampment with Zeke.

  Ray didn’t get more than a couple hours of sleep that night.

  At first light he was up and dressed in his Sunday going to meeting clothes. As Ray stepped straight out in the direction of the Adams wagons he spotted Morgan’s face looking back at him from inside her wagon. Ray wished her face had not carried so much dread across it.

  Morgan’s father was sitting proudly in his camp chair over by the fire, next to his wife who had joined him in breakfast. Mr. Adams g
lanced in Ray’s direction and began to rise from his seat whispering something into his wife’s ear made her rise as well. She collected her plate and utensils and walked away towards the wagon.

  “Good morning, sir,” Ray said, trying to mask his tremors and sound as mature as possible.

  “Well, I guess you’ve come to tell your side of the murder last night,” rumbled Mr. Adams.

  “Well no sir, I mean, murder? Sir, what murder, I don’t understand. I was coming here to ask you…”

  “Yes murder!” interrupted Mr. Adams, “That poor Jack Smoot, gunned down by your friend so that you could have a clear path to my daughter. Why Morgan sat up all night in her wagon grieving over Jack. I haven’t heard a tear out of her as yet, but I’m sure she still must be in shock and the tears will soon be coming.”

  “Mr. Adams, respectfully, I believe there has been a very large misunderstanding here. I…”

  “Yes, and you made it!” interrupted Mr. Adams again, “Mr. Smoot was a well respected boy from a well established family from Boston. He was going to be able to provide very nicely for my dear Morgan.”

  “But sir, she didn’t love him,” Ray blurted out.

  “Love? Love! What do you know of love and marriage? Before a marriage can even be considered, the groom must first be evaluated for his place in society, breeding, and the financial strength of their family. Love will come along later.”

  Ray didn’t know where to go from here in the conversation. He felt like he had lost before he ever got started. Then he felt his temper starting to rise. He was fighting mad for the woman he loved. Ray was not going to give up on Morgan.

  “Listen Mr. Adams, I’ve stood here and listened to all you had to say about the way things were back in Boston, but this isn’t Boston. You’re moving your family to California for a new beginning. Not to drag along old ideas that just locked people into corners. As for Jack Smoot, he was nothin’ more than a back shooting coward and the worst thing that could have ever happened to your daughter. She must have told you how he abandoned her in the Indian camp to save his own skin. She’d still be there; married to that giant brave if I hadn’t been there to fight for her. Furthermore, last night was an attempted murder. Jack Smoot attempted to kill me while I slept in my bedroll. You can ask anyone who was there. Several people saw the whole thing. Smoot snuck up on my bedroll thinking I was still in it. He put three bullets into what would have been my back. Thank God I was with Morgan instead of in that bedroll. My friends saw him shooting and returned fire to try and save me. Jack didn’t have the guts to face me man to man, so much for your place in society, breeding, and the financial strength of their family. I guess I would have to say on his behalf that he may have had the financial part, but I can’t help but think he would have found a way to screw that up too…” Ray only stopped talking because he needed to catch his breath.

  Mr. Adams stood erect and with clinched fists he glared into Ray’s face. “Boy…I can’t remember the last time anyone spoke to me with such disrespect. Most men want something from me because I’m rich. So they tend to yes me up one side and down the other. I’m not used to being called on any of my beliefs. I guess I just got to a point, since no one ever questioned me until today, that all my ideas were solid.” He took a deep breath before continuing.

  “I find your insolence curiously refreshing. I believe I’m going to enjoy living in California very much if this is the way a Western man acts. However, one point I do want to clear up. You said you were with my daughter when this incident occurred last night. Please explain yourself,” finished Mr. Adams with a stern scowl.

  “Sir, I will not lie to you… I met Morgan next to the river last night. I also will not lie to you… when I tell you that I only kissed her once. I will also not lie to you… when I say that I am in love with your daughter. I came here this morning to ask you for your daughter’s hand. I would like to marry her as soon as we arrive in Pueblo de Los Angeles.”

  Once again, Mr. Adams fell silent, just staring at Ray, sizing him up. Ray hoped he might be trying to think how Ray would look standing in one of their family portraits.

  “This morning I have been enlightened in more ways than I care to mention. I would say that perhaps I do need to review my thinking when it comes to place and breeding in society. But I still stand fast on a man being financially sound. My daughter is accustomed to a certain standard of living. I just do not see how a cowboy would be able to meet her needs.”

  “Hold on there Adams,” interrupted Quincy, coming out of nowhere, “I want to show you something.”

  Reaching into his breast pocket Quincy pulled out a piece of paper handing it to Mr. Adams. While Mr. Adams began to read the document, Quincy explained. “Sorry, but I happened to have overheard your conversation. Oh hell everyone on this end of the train has been listening. I just want you to know that your daughter couldn’t do any better than this young man right here.”

  “Thank you, Quincy, but I’m trying to…”Ray began apologetically.

  “Hush up boy, I got a piece to speak and I’m gonna do it,” interrupted Quincy, again.

  “I understand your respect for this young man, Train Master. I agree Mr. Cooper has proven himself a man on this trip. But it does not change the fact that when the journey is over, he will still be an out of work cowboy. No offense meant, Ray.”

  “That’s okay, I understand your concern,” Ray started, but was quickly cut off by Quincy.

  “Now hush again, Ray, let me get this out. Adams the document you hold in your hand is a deed to one of the largest ranches in the Pueblo de Los Angeles area. That ranch has four good size homes as well as several out buildings. Not to mention several hundred head of cattle grazin’ on that fine land. The property runs from the valley all the way to the coast. A better piece of property, I beg to say, don’t exist.”

  “Well this is all well and good, but why are you telling me this?” asked Mr. Adams. “You’re not asking for my daughter’s hand, are you?”

  “No sir, I’m too old and too ugly. Hell man, it’s all there in black and white. That there is the deed to that property and it’s been officially transferred over to Ray Cooper. He owns her lock, stock and barrel.”

  “Quincy, I thought you weren’t gonna sign it over to me until we reached Pueblo de Los Angeles?” asked Ray.

  “Oh hell, boy, I may not make it that far. You earned it and it’s yours,” smiled Quincy.

  “But Quincy, I don’t know that I can accept all this…”

  “Boy, you don’t get it yet do you? That ranch needs you and the boys more than you need it. I picked you to keep my dream alive. There’ll be times when you thank me, like now, and probably more times when you’ll curse me for stickin’ you with all the headaches.”

  Turning back to Mr. Adams, Quincy asked, “Well now, what do have to say about this boy’s request?”

  “Yes father, what do you have to say?” threatened Morgan’s voice from behind her father.

  Ray turned and there stood Morgan with a look of determination on her face. Her mother was leaning against her with her arms wrapped around her.

  Mr. Adams looked long and hard at his daughter, then to his wife, then down at the deed in his hand and then back to Ray.

  “Ray, do not ever hurt my Morgan or treat her less than she is accustomed to or you will surely answer to me. That’s my precious little girl and I love her more than life itself.”

  “Oh Pa,” called Morgan as she broke from her mother’s arms and hugged her Pa’s neck.

  From under Morgan’s tight grip, Mr. Adams extended his hand in Ray’s direction, “Welcome to the family, son.”