by Lenny Davis
Chapter 8
Jesse Bartleby rode in front of his men as they galloped across the prairie. All of them were grimly determined to give Neville Morlock and the Black Thirteen short shrift tonight. Never again would they hurt another member of their fellowship. Enough was enough.
In the west, the sun was about to set, filling the sky with a peculiar crimson fire. Almost prophetic, Jesse thought of the color.
The scent of revenge lay in the air and it seemed to him that not only he and his men were pounding the prairie, but that another, an invisible army had joined with them. It was as if Death himself were riding next to him on a bony horse, brandishing his rusty scythe, ready to cut down the guilty.
They were still about two miles away from the ranch when Jesse spied a lone wagon rolling towards them through the high grass. Bigger than a buggy, but smaller than a stage coach, it was essentially a box on wheels.
Jesse wondered who that was.
Some kind of merchant perhaps?
When he and his company of riders got closer to the wagon, Jesse saw that the driver wore tattered clothes and sat hunched over like a truly old man.
Who might that be?
He intended to pass the wagon by as he didn't have time right now to make new friends. Time was presently of the essence. But when he was about fifty yards away, the presumably ancient driver of the cart proved fit as a fiddle. He jumped off the buckboard like a young man and ran towards Jesse. In the hubbub his hat fell away. Jesse pulled rein when he noticed the flowing black hair of a woman. He slowed down and stopped, and so did his men. They quickly formed a circle around this peculiar cart.
And Jesse soon realized that the woman racing towards him was none other than Mina Morlock. He saw the trepidation in her face when she got closer.
I told her to hide, Jesse thought. Why isn't she down by the willow tree?
"Mr. Bartleby!" Mina said.
Jesse cocked his head. She didn't look like a queen right now. Subdued, standing almost doubled over, she looked more like a supplicant. The old men's clothes that she was wearing obscured her fine figure. Her white face was pallid with dread today. Jesse wondered why she had dressed up like this. What was this all about?
"Mrs. Morlock, I presume?" he said.
"Yes, Mr. Bartleby, it's me," Mina replied. "I got your letter. Sir, I beseech you not to harm anybody on the ranch tonight."
"There are a few really evil men on that ranch, Mrs. Morlock. I'm afraid Mr. Morlock and his Black Thirteen severely abused a group of my men today. Pistol-whipped them. I cannot allow anybody to treat my men like this or soon everybody will be doing it. Our cause is just, Mrs. Bartleby, as you know full well."
Jesse sat stiff like a general on his horse. Mina stood by his side and looked up at him with anxious eyes.
Oh those eyes…
Jesse regretted that there was hurt in those eyes again tonight and that he was the reason for it. But what could he say? A man had to do what a man had to do.
"Sir, I know in my heart that you are a decent person," Mina said. "I admit that my husband Neville is a grand fool. Everybody knows that. It's no secret. I also concede that his guards, the men you call the Black Thirteen, are not the most pleasant people to have around. But you should leave revenge to the courts."
Jesse sat erect for a moment. "Mrs. Morlock—"
"If you were to shed blood tonight," she said, "you would become a haunted man as you'd be committing murder. You'd be a fugitive on the earth like Cain of old, who was running from the face of God and man forever, hated by everybody. I beseech you, sir, not to act rashly tonight."
"Well now, Mrs. Morlock—"
"It's also not necessary! I have with me all the money that is owed to you."
Jesse wasn't sure he heard right. "Say that again, Mrs. Morlock."
"You heard correctly, sir." She turned towards the wagon she'd been steering. "In this cart I have all wages owed to you as well as a few sacks of grain for your immediate needs. There is no need to raid the ranch, Mr. Bartleby. I am here to settle your account."
"This is very peculiar, Mrs. Morlock," Jesse said. "Let me ask you, is you husband sending you? Why isn't he coming himself?"
"My dear husband doesn't know that I am here," Mina said. "You see, today, when the day was hot and my husband was resting, I emptied the safe in my husband's office unawares."
She did that all by herself? Jesse wondered. She was taking considerable risks.
Mina stepped up and leaned closer and whispered, "I am bringing ten thousand dollars, Mr. Bartleby."
Oh my, Jesse thought. What a woman.
"Do you mind if I take a look at them?" he whispered back.
Mina stood ramrod-straight. Her black eyes looked straight into his and she said, "Not at all."
Jesse slipped off his saddle. Together he and Mina went towards the cart. The mule that was hitched to it was nibbling on the long grass in which it stood.
Mina went to the door in the back of the wagon.
"It's secured," Mina said to Jesse. She knocked three times on the wood of the door.
"Who's there?" a female voice said.
"It's me, Mamie."
Jesse heard how a bar was lifted off its hinges inside the wagon, then the door swung open and Mamie's face appeared in the opening. The dear maid was glistening with sweat. It was obviously hot in the caboose.
Mamie stepped out of the wagon into the fresh air of the evening, and Mina and Jesse climbed in. The cart had no windows and was inwardly heavily fortified with metal fittings. Mina went and opened one of the gray sacks that lined the walls — and sure enough, she pulled out bundles of green bills. Jesse took the one she handed him and ran his thumb over the bundle's edge.
Greenbacks.
Lots of them.
"How much is in those sacks?" Jesse said.
"Ten thousand," Mina insisted, "just like I said."
Jesse's eyes roamed the small room. In another corner sat bigger sacks, bulging with grain.
This was more money than what he was owed...
His desire for revenge suddenly evaporated when he looked at Mina in the twilight of the cart. An almost painful soberness came over him.
"Mina…" And Jesse's voice trailed off as he thought of what he had been about to do. He had almost gone and killed people. Because somebody owed him money.
"Thanks for doing this. Thanks for bringing this money. This is very brave of you. I don't know how to thank you. Somehow I feel that you have saved my life tonight. I don't know what to say."
He glanced at her and she was more beautiful now, unkempt and in those old clothes, than she'd been last night in her expensive riding habit.
Her intense black eyes scrutinized him. When she was satisfied that he was no longer in a murderous mood, she relaxed visibly. Jesse jumped off the cart and then helped her out.
The eyes of the assembled cowboys were on them.
"Men!" Jesse said. "Mrs. Morlock has just brought our wages." He turned towards Bill McGuire who sat on a stout dun horse. "Bill, there's food for Mary. Your baby is not going to starve."
When the men just sat there in silence, staring at him, not sure of this newest development, Jesse said, "The raid is called off!"
He turned towards Mina. "Do you mind loaning us this cart, Mrs. Morlock?"
Mina smiled. "Not at all, Mr. Bartleby."
"I'll make sure to return it once we don't need it any longer."
"I'm sure you will."
Jesse waved at Rudy who had been riding right behind him. "Rudy, please leave your horse with Mrs. Morlock. I also need a second horse for the maid. And then you jump on the buckboard of this transport and drive it home to camp."
"Yes, sir!" Rudy said and jumped off his horse.
Once Mina sat on Rudy's horse, Jesse asked her, "Are you going to find your way home, Mrs. Morlock?"
"Don't worry, Mr. Bartleby. I shall find my way. No need to accompany me. For obvious reasons I think it's best we are not seen t
ogether."
"Your husband will sooner or later find out that he's missing ten thousand dollars. When are you going to tell him that you gave them to me?"
Mina's gaze wandered off into the distance. A hard line played around her mouth. "At the earliest possible moment, I suppose. Perhaps tomorrow morning."
Jesse swallowed. He hadn't forgotten that Neville Morlock had been beating his wife. What would the rancher do to her once he found out that she took ten thousand dollars in cold cash from him and had given them to Jesse and his cowboys?
"Mrs. Morlock," he growled. "My offer from last night still stands. If you are ever in need of protection…"
Mina cast him a wan smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Bartleby, I know what you mean. But I live a privileged life. My husband likes to look at me. He wouldn't mar me if for no other reason than that he will want to look at me in the future. I shall survive. My life is not as hard as you perhaps think it is."
You're fibbing, Jesse thought. He saw it in her face. She was familiar with the pain that a shot marriage brought with it. He wished to God he could do something for her.
But who was he?
Just a cowboy. By no means a player in her life.
She was covering for her miserable husband even though the scoundrel didn't deserve it.
What a woman.
"We better go now," Mina said. "Au revoir, Mr. Bartleby. I'd be delighted if we'd meet again under better circumstances."
Yes, perhaps, Jesse thought. Too bad this lady was a married woman. Would she have been free, he would have asked her right here on the spot to marry him.
Marriage.
An idea he'd never entertained before in his life.
She had class.
The cowboys watched as Mina and Mamie, her maid, rode back towards the ranch. Mamie sat on a short pony that somebody had found for her. When the two women vanished in the high grass, the cowboys turned around and rode back to camp. Rudy and the wagon with the money rolled along in a giant circle of cowboys.
Jesse was presently in such a good mood that he began to sing one of his songs of the prairie. Soon the others picked up his tune and sang along. When the realization sank in that they were rich now and would not be starving during the winter, they grew exuberant and sang louder and louder, until the entire prairie reverberated with one big melody.
Very good, Jesse thought. Mina had saved him from committing a grave mistake. The next few days they'd spend distributing the loot. There was plenty of that to go around for once.
Glory to God.